


Mortal Questions

by LadyLorena



Series: Mortal Questions [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 02:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7995550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLorena/pseuds/LadyLorena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki has to return to Asgard with Thor or spend his life on the run. But while they wait on Midgard for him to make this decision, he runs into an intriguing woman in a coffee shop whose day job is rescuing the lost and night job leaves little to her guest's imagination. He has never met someone quite like her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Loki and Thor. On Earth. Once again, brothers on a mission. Or so that was how it was initially. After, it became Loki and Thor, brothers on Earth, attempting to figure out how to talk to one another without common business.

Their mission to find the All-Father has been over for a few days. They have just a few more before Thor will finish their work and bring Loki to Asgard to face justice yet again.

A crowd of young women once again swarms Thor on the streets of New York City. He stops for photos. Loki slinks aside, looking for an excuse to disappear. It happens this way often- Thor has the fans, the girls, the attention. Loki vanishes. overwhelmed by the chatter, sickened by the adoration, and impatient with the unsolicited touching. There is a coffee shop across the street. Thor will find him. He always does.

The door chimes as he enters. Two separate seating areas. One full of tables and chairs arranged traditionally. Another area has benches, couches, and a motley of armchairs arranged around a centre point- a lowered area with beanbags and pillows. The counter swoops around to accommodate both spaces. He doesn't bother to glance at the board and orders a black coffee. He settles into one of the armchairs and watches the people. A girl and her mother play a board game near the windows. Businessmen gather around one of the low tables. A gaggle of teenagers tumble off the beanbag chairs, laughing, in the lowered centre. A lone young woman in a long black skirt meets his eye and smiles from across the room. He takes a moment to study her, fully aware that she knows he is watching while she writes something with an elegant silver pen. A fountain pen? He can't tell. But what he can see is that her black shirt is sheer and her lower layer is some sort of lace thing, perhaps a bra, perhaps something meant to be outerwear, and her skirt shimmers in the light as it pools around her feet. He stands and walks to her table. She looks interesting. Perhaps a way to pass the time while his brother meets with his adoring fans.

He steps up to her table, "Excuse me, Miss. Is this seat taken?"

"No."

"Might I join you?"

She looks up from her paper and scans him- black suit, black shirt, tie that might be green in better light, "Sit. But don't say anything until I've finished writing this."

He sits and sips his coffee. The shirt is collared. Perhaps a natural fibre. There is a necklace framed in the open buttons- a tree. Her hair is swept up in a sleek twist, her makeup minimal. A little around the eyes. No marks on her coffee cup, no lipstick. No rings. Earrings- asymmetrical dangles in her lower holes. Something blue sparkling in the second ones. He watches her write. She has something tattooed on the underside of her forearm. She brushes back an errant lock of hair and he sees that there is writing on the other arm in the same place. Black lace fingerless gloves conceal most of her hands. Her nails are short, painted, and neat. He allows himself a moment to wonder about the occupation of this curious creature. Elegant in clothing, though not so much as Asgard's women. Striking in all black. Even her hair. And very different from most of the characters he has met so far on his brother's insistence. Midgardians are not, he has decided, his sort of creature. Most of them are so terribly dull.

Her phone chimes. She ignores it. It chimes again. And a third time. The sound irritates him. When it chimes a fourth time, he sighs.

"Are you aware your device is making that noise?"

"Yep. And I asked you not to talk until I was finished writing. They can wait, too."

"Would you care to silence it?"

"Nope. I have four chimes. That's not one of the emergency ones. But if I can't turn off one without turning them all off. And I can't miss one of the important ones. Suck it up, buttercup. I'll be done in a second."

It chimes again. Loki wonders if he should leave. But she signs the document with a flourish, snaps the cap on her pen, and sighs.

"Thank god that's done."

"Praytell what was so important that you could not check your phone?"

"Grant reporting. People don't just give your charity money because they feel you're worth the work. You need to beg off the damned government if you want to exist. Or corporate donors. And there's always strings attached and things they want to know so they can decide if you're good enough to fund the next year."

"You work for a charity?"

"Work? That would indicate they paid me."

"You do this for nothing?"

"No. I do this because there are people who need me, whether or not I get paid. I have other work, don't worry your pretty face over me."

He raises an eyebrow, "You assume I would worry?"

"Well you wouldn't be sitting here if there wasn't some interest in me."

He smirks, "Oh, I have an interest, but it's purely academic. I don't give a damn about your little charity or its work."

She tucks her paperwork in a black briefcase, "Good. I can put this away then." She slips the fountain pen in its pocket and snaps it closed decisively, "So. Why did you sit down here? Why am I the subject of your study, not someone else?"

"Well, you simply attracted the eye."

"Hmmm. I don't buy it. Give me a better reason."

"I am curious what sort of person would dress as you do. I see so few."

"Better lie, but still not the full reason. You're curious, I can see that in your face. But what else? You want something."

"Why do you assume I want something?"

"Because of the way you're watching me. Studying me. Like I can give you something. Academically. Spiritually. Physically. One way or another. You're looking for something."

"Why don't you tell me about your work?"

"Nice change of subject. Don't think I'm not coming back to this."

"What makes you think I will allow that? Or stay for it?"

"Because you want something. Like I said. And you can't get it if I don't know what it is. But about me. My works. The charity I write grants for helps sex workers, trafficking victims, abandoned kids, transgender people, queer people, addicts, veterans...anybody thrown out on the streets. We run a safe house, a shelter, clothing pantries, a food pantry, and we connect people to social services. Medical professionals that will help them without being judgemental assholes. Drug rehab. Whatever they need. And we're one of the few groups that does it without putting religion into it."

"Well. That seems good of you."

"It's good work. Hard work. Our clients face some of the shittiest treatment people can dole out to one another. Any kind of abuse you can imagine, they've probably endured it. Sexual abuse, physical abuse, emotional, spiritual, some of them have been tortured. Some of them have been used to mule drugs. It's pretty terrible."

"And your role is in paperwork? How does that serve their needs? Are you no more than their secretary?"

She laughs, "Oh, no, darling, that would mean we had money to have a full staff, not that we were begging off the government's teat for a grant to keep the lights on. Money we get donated's better used to help the clients. I'm the streets girl. I used to walk them, I know what's out here. I go out and look for the new people. The kids, particularly. And then I talk to them and find out if I need to bring them anything or if they're ready for us."

"You don't just pick them up?"

"Can't take someone unwillingly, darling. People are still people, even if they don't know what they're doing. The kids are easier to convince. And if they're young enough and on their own, I'll call in the professionals."

"Law enforcement?"

"Sometimes. Social workers first. I don't like to send kids to jail for being lost and hurt."

He nods, "That's decent of you."

"Well what did they do to deserve being locked up? They've already been thrown out. The ones being trafficked have already had their trust manipulated and chained. It feels wrong to say I'm there to help and do the same damn thing. They're just people. Scared. Hurt. On their own."

He furrows his brow, "You've said that a few times. Trafficked. I don't get your meaning."

"Oh, sorry. Human trafficking. Where bodies are traded and sold for their labour or their sex. People treated as things."

"Ah. Slavery."

"Yes. But we have cultural baggage around that word, and since nobody seems to be willing to realize that slavery didn't end a century and a half ago, we have to use a different and more broad term. Especially since trafficking victims might be paid for their labour. Their pimps take it all back in rent or fees or just by taking it. There's a lot of threats and coercion going on. Identity papers or cards withheld."

"And this is all something you do when not working?"

"Yep."

"And what do you for work?"

She slips a business card from her briefcase's outer pocket, "Come see me. And bring your brother."

"How do you know I have a brother?"

"You're not the only one who watches people. Human behaviour's my job, love. And I saw how you looked at the girls swarming him. Come by if you'd like to see a side of Earth women that isn't desperate for fawning male attention." She stand up and straightens her blouse, "And it's Egyptian cotton. Very fine."

"Desperate?"

She taps the card and leans towards him, one hand on the table, her voice low, "You'll see. Those women fall over him because he has the power, the heroism, the recognition they all crave. They want someone to see them and they imagine being special and kept and to have someone like _him_ be the one to do it...that's something they dream of with their fingers between their legs. Me? I prefer to be the one in charge. Boys in the news don't impress me. Not even the bad ones." She winks, "See you tonight, Loki." It is only as she is walking away that he realizes he never told her his name.

Thor catches the handle as she opens the door and steps aside to hold it for her as she passes, "Excuse me, M'Lady."

"I'll see you tonight, Thor."

He looks confused, "Oh? I don't think we've met."

"No. But your brother has my card. And he's oh, so curious." She smiles and drags a finger on the edge of his shoulder as she passes. His eyes follow her down the street.

He steps into the coffee shop and orders a latte before sitting down across from Loki, "Who was that woman? She is quite beautiful. And seductive."

"I don't know."

"She said she would see us tonight."

"I made no such promise."

"But you did talk to her."

"Of course I talked to her. She looked interesting and you had abandoned me for your...fans."

"Harmless fun, Loki. They wanted photographs. Why not make them happy? Happiness costs me nothing."

"Only time."

"There is time for a photograph. We have the All-Father safely back in Asgard. We have a few days before I follow Father orders and bring you home. Or before you disappear again."

"Not home, Thor." Loki sets the card on the table. Dark red. The colour of fresh blood or a dark rose. The print on it is in black edged in silver.

Thor reads it, "'Violetta Scott'."

"Turn it over."

"An address. Days of the week. And times. Starting at 9. Did she say what she does?"

"No. Her charity work is with the wretched ones of this world. But she never said her other occupation other than I needn't worry my 'pretty face' over that her charity work was unpaid."

"Well, brother, I certainly am curious. Shall we make this one of our last adventures in Midgard?"

Loki downs the last of his coffee and carefully tucks the card in his inner jacket pocket, "I suppose, Thor. If you insist."

"Oh, I do. And I think you want to know, too."

"No, I don't really care about the occupation of a random Midgardian woman met in a coffee shop. Perhaps you should go alone. My time is better spent on more academic pursuits."

Thor stands and Loki follows, "Oh. You mean reading articles online for hours without sleeping. I'm sure that's a good use of your limited time. I didn't ask you to spend a few days here so you could shut yourself in front of a screen. I want you to see this place. Perhaps even understand why it means what it does to me."

"Now that, Thor, is an unrealistic expectation." They step back out on the street, "Which route shall we take to avoid the majority of your adoring fans?"

Thor shrugs, "I don't know. They seem to be everywhere. Let's just walk towards Central Park. I think you will like it. A little green in the city."

Loki tosses his cup in the street bin as they pass, "Just so long as I can escape your admirers if they become too much."

"There are plenty of places to hide in the park. It's a beautiful place."

Loki nods, "Then forth we go, into the wild unknowns of this Central Park."

 


	2. Chapter 2

Loki makes sure his suit is immaculate for their night out. He insists that Thor wear a suit as well and he brushes his brother's hair and tidies the braids holding back the shorter strands, weaving them into the cords holding back the length. Then he allows Thor to brush back his until it is smooth and soft , braiding back the hair above his ears in fine plaits so tiny they can hardly be seen once they are pulled back and tucked behind his ears. He sighs, unsatisfied with how it falls behind his shoulders.

"I should cut it, shouldn't I?"

"Your hair is fine, Loki. I can tie it back if you would like."

"No. Leave it free."

"Then don't complain about it. We've had this conversation before."

"Yes we have. Now get your hands off me." He stands and smooths his jacket, "There. Now. Are you ready?"

Thor nods, "As soon as I have my shoes on."

"Then hurry. I want to be there on time. Do you know where we are going?"

"Yes. Maybe. I asked Tony to send a car. He has so few of our friends with him now."

" _Your_ friends, Thor. None of them are mine."

"That could change.'

"Thor, I tried to kill them. That doesn't engender goodwill. I somehow doubt your sunny optimism is realistic."

"We will see who brings the car."

"Yes, well, you did say it was for the both of us, right?"

"I did."

"Ah. Then _perhaps_ it will come."

They get down to the lobby of Thor's apartment building and his phone chirps, "Car's here." They step out to a sleek black car.

The window lowers and they see Natasha in the driver's seat, her hair and makeup crisp, "Get in the car, boys."

Loki sits in the back seat, Thor up front, "Good evening, Nat! Do you know this place?"

Loki passes up the card, "This is what we were given."

"Oooo, Violetta. Yeah, I know the place. You boys aren't going to know what hit you."

"There will be hitting? Should we have not worn the suits?" Thor asks.

Natasha rolls her eyes, "No, Thor. No hitting. Well. At least not unless it's part of the show. I don't think that's tonight's theme, though."

Loki tries to pretend he is bored, but it is very hard to do when his brother is so clearly curious about what they are going to see, "Theme?"

"Oh, I'm not giving away the surprise." She passes the card back to Loki and shifts the car in gear. She's gone a few blocks before she asks another question, "So...tell me about the woman who gave you that."

Loki shrugs, "Why? She was a perfectly normal woman. Nothing remarkable about her at all."

She laughs, "None of the women at Violetta's are unremarkable. Describe her."

"Dark hair. Sheer shirt. Long skirt. All black. Except her painted nails. Red to match the card."

"Tattoos?"

"On her arms."

"Did her earrings match?"

"No."

Natasha smirks, "You're in for a treat tonight."

Thor raises an eyebrow, "What sort of establishment is this. And what do you know of Violetta?"

"The woman you met...she's good. Very good. Just wait. You'll see."

They reach the street with a few minutes to spare. Natasha steps out of the car and Loki notices she is dressed as well as they are- her well tailored suit hugs her curves. She waits for Thor and Loki to join her. She loops an arm on Thor's.

"Oh?"

"Trust me. Its more fun this way. Walk me in."

They reach the door of a nondescript brick storefront. Loki holds the door. Natasha enters as a queen. They pass through a plain white room and to a set of rich, dark, heavy wooden double doors less than ten feet from the entrance. She presses the buzzer.

"Do you have a card?"

She holds out her hand to Loki. He gives her the business card and she holds it up to a camera. The door buzzes and two men glistening in gold body paint over bronze skin step out and hold it open for them. They wear only a draping cloth that covers their crotches. Nothing on the back. Natasha seems to expect this as she loops her arm through Loki's and walks with them both into a large opulent lobby, red curtains separating them from whatever is happening inside. Natasha walks up to the ticket counter and pushes the business card across the counter to the woman behind it. She inspects it and holds it up to the light. Satisfied it is genuine, she hands them a black envelope.

Natasha glances from Loki to Thor, "One of you boys needs to take that." Thor obediently does. "Open it." He does. Three tickets, the same red as the card, stamped with a number. The woman behind the counter hands back the business card. Loki takes it without being asked and tucks it back in his jacket pocket. It is valuable. He wonders just what riches these security measures protect. It wouldn't be hard for someone like him to come in without it, though. Human protections are only so good as the humans guarding them. And to him, humans are of little worth as guards. They are such fragile things.

Natasha checks the number and leads them down a side hallway. Another mostly naked man stands at the end. He looks at their tickets and takes them to a curtained doorway. He pulls back the drape and they step into a dimly it theatre surrounded by tables draped in the same dark red as the rich velvet curtains concealing the stage. There are black metal numbers standing at the centre of each table. Natasha points theirs out and they sit.

"Why all this secrecy?" Thor asks, "Is there some great treasure concealed behind the curtain?"

"Keep your voice down. Don't break the atmosphere."

He lowers his voice, "You did not answer my question."

"And I won't. That would also break the atmosphere. You're supposed to be intrigued. Curious. The white entry, the doors, the card, the curtains...it's all supposed to make you wonder."

"You have been here before."

"Oh, yes. Yes I have. It's a wonderful place, if you're looking for a certain something. And if you're not, it's still pretty fascinating. I'll be interested to see how you boys react."

Loki raises an eyebrow, "It is some sort of trial?"

The lights dim and the other patrons hush as she leans in and whispers, "For some men, it's a trial in self control."

The entire room goes dark and Loki hears the big travelling curtain glide aside, parting in the middle, sweeping upward. A single spotlight snaps on, the sound reverberating through the auditorium. There is a red haired woman in the middle of the stage in a glittering long crimson dress that hugs her curves and pools around her feet. Her hair is coiffed like some of the pictures Thor has shown him of woman from Captain Rogers' time. In the silence, she slowly draws long velvet red gloves down her arms, her movement slow, deliberate. The first one falls from her fingers and she drops it to the stage. Then the second. She steps forward to a microphone that rises out of the stage and the dress parts, a split clear up the front of one thigh.

"Welcome, one and all, to Violetta's house. We ever endeavour to entertain and amuse, perhaps even to stimulate a little something between friends and lovers. Indulge yourselves, if you will, in our scenes, for what is this night about if not indulgence?" The spotlight snaps off.

When the stage warms with an amber glow, there are women in black with books lounging on pillows. Another group of women, also in black, forms a small orchestra. They begin to play, slow, sensual songs that move their bodies in graceful curves. The book women move with them. One of them unbuttons her blouse. Another slides down her skirt. And one removes opera gloves. And then, in their partial states of undress, they slowly strip the orchestra, kissing and caressing as the music plays. When the musicians do not stop playing, the other women finish undressing each other, a slow tease that brings them eventually back to their cushions and their books. They settle into their seats and return to reading. The orchestra stops playing and the lighting shifts, darkening the book women, illuminating the orchestra as they leave their music to be a part of the next scene. The lights follow them to a ballet. Scene after scene of young women elegantly undressing in everyday artistic situations, from painting to shadow play to acrobatics on a pipe-built stage set, leads to the final act. A woman in a large glass tub in an evening gown, black hair in a tight twist. It rains on stage. The bodies around her dance and bow, priestesses of art itself in sheer, clinging robes who worship the woman in the gown, her tulle skirt floating in the water, her legs exposed as she moves, graceful. Little by little, she removes layers and tosses them to priestesses who place them on a metal frame. Black lace and tulle. She removes the skirt and the priestesses raise it behind her as a black backdrop to her near nudity. Her priestesses remove the black bra and kiss her, lifting her from the water.

She stands on their shoulders and poses, an alabaster statue, before the entire stage goes dark. The red curtain slides closed and the house lights come up to half.

Natasha looks between the brothers, "So. What did you boys think?"

Thor clears his throat, "I think I rather suddenly need a girlfriend."

She nearly snorts, laughing, and then turns to Loki, "And you?"

"I'm not entirely sure what I just saw, but it was quite daring."

"Daring? That's all you've got?"

"Yes. And yourself?" He keeps his mask in place, determined not to react to the overt and artistic sexuality on stage.

"I'm with Thor. I think I need a girlfriend."

Loki raises an eyebrow, "Oh?"

"Don't be getting any ideas, Mister Illusionist."

"Too late." For half a second, there is a woman in Loki's place in a trim black suit, long hair down her back. She winks. And then the illusion is gone.

Thor raises an eyebrow, "Do I need to leave you two to yourselves this evening?"

"Nope. Illusion doesn't count."

He turns to Loki, "So which girl was the one you met in the coffee shop? There were many with dark hair and you have a far better memory for faces at this distance."

"The woman in the tub."

"The one it appeared they were worshipping at the end?"

"Yes." He turns to Natasha, "Her name?"

"Violetta. This is her place. She's good. Very good. And you should see her when she's doing her kink show. There aren't many women who can make latex look as incredible as she does."

"Kink?" Thor asks.

Natasha laughs, "Oh, god...I guess we'll have to come back. Maybe latex and whips will get Loki excited."

He forces a smile and shakes his head, "No, I don't think so. Probably remind me too much of having been actually imprisoned and whipped in a dungeon."

She winces, "Oooo, sorry."

"I am surprised Thor hasn't bragged of my capture enough that it was impossible to forget."

"You know, 'my baby brother ended up going evil and attempting genocide because we fucked up raising him' doesn't really turn into bragging," Natasha says, "So no. We don't really talk a whole lot about that."

"Ah."

Loki nods to Thor, "Then thank you for small mercies."

"You are welcome."

Natasha gestures to a curtained door, "Come on. Let's go see Vi."

"You know her?" Thor asks.

"Yeah. We go way back. Back so far we were ballerinas together as kids."

 


	3. Chapter 3

Natasha leads them through a side door behind a heavy velvet curtain to the backstage area. Crew members are draining the water and mopping the trail back to the dressing rooms. Partly naked women wander between doors without noticing anyone else in the hall. The crew doesn't seem to be distracted. Loki keeps his eyes ahead and hopes that Thor does the same. Natasha, however, talks to a few of the women as they pass. At the end of the hall, she knocks on the last dark red door.

"Who is it?"

"Nat. And I've brought you a few friends. Some boys I hear you met this afternoon."

"Come in!"

She opens the door and walks through, Thor following, Loki on his heels. He shuts the door after him. The room is decently sized. There is a couch on one side, racks of costumes behind it, and between the two big windows, the dressing table. Violetta sits at it in a silk bathrobe she has tied loosely at her waist. It drapes open revealing a soft silk dress, the shoulders of her lace bra showing as the straps slip. She doesn't adjust them.

"Well I didn't expect Nat to bring you. This is a treat. Please, sit." Thor takes one end of the couch. Loki, the other. Natasha settles between them and drapes her legs over Loki's lap, leaning against Thor. Violetta laughs, "Oh, you certainly know how to make yourself comfortable, don't you?"

"Always, Vi."

"And what do your boys think about this?" She gestures around the room, "The spectacle? The glitter? The sex?"

Natasha brushes Thor's cheek, "Well this one says he's in the market for a girlfriend after the show." She turns to Loki and drags a finger down his collar, "And this one...he's tricky. He liked it, but I get the feeling he's more of a hands-on person...and he needs a lot of convincing to be hands-on." He removes her finger and places her hand on her knee, "See what I mean?"

Violetta stands, "Mmmm, I do see. Perhaps after a few shows he might feel differently. She walks to the costumes, "So...what are your peculiarities? Do you like latex? Lace? Or perhaps metal?" She pulls out a complicated looking top made of fine draped chains. "Or perhaps your persuasions lie with the male sex?"

Loki shakes his head, his demeanour completely unshaken, "No, none of the above."

"A challenge. I like this. Come back tomorrow night. We never to do the same show twice a week. Tomorrow is our suspension show. Men with hooks in their backs. Women tied in ribbons falling from the ceiling only to dance and twist in the silk. And I end up bound up-side-down on a rack. It's quite titillating."

Loki shakes his head, "So by day, you liberate people from the shackles of others, and by night, you pin yourself in them to entertain. Is this how Midgard entertains her men?"

"No," Violetta replies, "This is how _I_ entertain my men. There are far more who prefer the cheap whores and trafficked children I rescue in the daylight. This...this is a different experience. A chosen one, by both our performers and our patrons. There is no touching. No intimacy. Not beyond the stage and the fantasy we weave. Everything that exists between our audience and us is in their heads. We like to keep it that way. And I pay my performers incredibly well to make sure they never feel they need to turn tricks."

"So you manipulate their fantasies for their money. This just gets better and better."

She smiles and leans over him, her voice low and deliberate, slowly inching closer to his ear as she speaks, her voice softening so he has to either let her or come closer himself, "And yet, you came. Right here. To this room, even. You walked out with that card and let it take you somewhere you could not anticipate. I know who you are. Who you both are. And you were said to have sought power across the globe, to dominate us and bend us to kneel. Yet...at my door. Knock knock. Who has the power here?" She flicks her tongue at his earlobe and draws back observing. His eyes are closed, his breathing more measured, as though he is consciously controlling it. And he has leaned forward. She gently pushes him back against the couch with two fingers and then walks back to her dressing table.

"Damn, Vi." Natasha says, shaking her head.

"I learned as well as you." She glances back to Loki. He has composed himself and sits up straight on the couch, one leg crossed over the other.

"So. What's tomorrow's end with?"

"Oh, Nat, darling, you know I never tell the endings. That would ruin the surprise. You'll have to come back to see."

"Can't. Tony's called a meeting. It'll be small, that's for sure."

"Ah, yes. Your Avengers. Only a few in the country. The rest are in Wakanda?"

"Yeah."

"I briefly met their new king. He is beautiful. And alluring. What I wouldn't give for ten minutes with that body..."

"Not sure I can arrange that for you."

"Oh, I don't want it _arranged_. Chance encounters are so much more fun."

"Well it was good seeing you tonight, Vi. But we've got to get going. The boys here head home in a few days and I'm not allowed to keep them up past curfew. Stark's orders."

"Understood." Natasha stands and waves, Violetta waves back. She blows a kiss to Thor. Loki is at the door when she calls for him, "Loki. A moment?"

He turns back only so far as to see her over his shoulder; she stands and walks to the door, resting her hand on his arm, "You're more than welcome to return on your own. I'll be happy to bring you back for a little time if you want it."

"I don't think we'll make it. Just a few days left."

"I didn't say 'you' in the plural sense. I very clearly said 'on your own'. Tomorrow night. Bring the card." She turns him to face her.

"Why?"

"Because you're interesting. You resist. And I don't meet a lot of men I find interesting."

"No?"

"Men who come here are open books looking to live in their fantasy worlds for a little longer, a little more concretely. You...you're here for a different reason. I want to know _why_."

"And if I never say?"

"Then you'll tell me other ways. No man is silent forever."

"Yes, well, I have a 5,000 year life span. I don't need forever. Just until you're dead," he smirks, thinking he may have the upper hand.

She smiles, "Oh, you're a challenge. I'll see you tomorrow night."

"No, you won't."

"I'll bet you $10 I will."

"And if I don't show, how will I collect my winnings?"

She shrugs, tracing a finger along the edge of his tie, "I'm sure you'll think of something." She gently pushes him back and he steps into the hall. He turns to follow Thor and Natasha. She closes the door and leans against it a moment, knowing she's planted a seed. He'll be back. He's curious.

 


	4. Chapter 4

At 8pm the following night, Loki sits on his bed, trying to decide if he should be getting ready for bed or heading out. He turns the card in his fingers. He wants to see. But at the same time, she's told him clearly that she expects it and he hates doing anything someone else expects of him.

He sighs and stands up, straightening his suit. He steals some money from Thor's drawer and hails a cab outside. He gives the driver the address.

The show is as equally alluring and elegant as the night before, but the acrobatics of the women dangling from long silk ribbons, weaving themselves with the textiles and eventually twining the silk into braids through their leaps and twirls impress him. They end the show with their goddess woven in silk, wrapped like a fly in a web, slowly unwoven while suspended in the air. When they release her, she falls. The men painted in gold surround where she should strike the stage. The sound of her body hitting is deafening in the near silent auditorium. Many of the audience members stand, trying to see if there is a corpse on the stage. The quiet is tense, no one in the tableau moving, only the fluttering of the silks suspended from the ceiling. And then mist pours from the lighting deck above, shrouding the front of the stage. A shape descends in the fog. And then the lights snap to a single downward spotlight on Violetta, her body splashed with red to look like blood, heaviest at her feet, her face clear. She touches down on the stage and the gold-painted men fall at her feet.

After, he walks the same path Natasha did. One of the painted men stops him, but another performers intervenes and sends him back to Violetta's room.

He knocks.

"Who is it?"

"Your guest. I owe you $10."

"Open the door."

He does and steps in. She is sitting at her dressing table peeling the crimson off her legs, her silk robe open to her waist.

He hands her the bill and sits on the couch, "Good evening."

"Hello. Did you enjoy the show?"

"Yes. It was quite entertaining. Your performers are incredibly athletic."

"I know. You should see them up close."

"Oh?"

She drops another piece of latex into the rubbish bin beside her, "The bodies may be beautiful at a distance, but to touch them...these people are incredible. Walking the stage during rehearsal is such a...well, an arousing experience."

"Arousing? You are attracted to women?"

"I'm attracted to anyone with a sharp mind and a keen talent. My people are bright and bold and their skills with their bodies are vast. Gloria was my lover for a brief spell."

"Gloria?"

"The red-haired girl who strapped me to the open-frame rack."

"Oh. Oh my, yes. She was quite lovely. She wore the red dress to open the show yesterday, did she not? Crimson lips?"

"Yep. You should see what she can do with those lips." She keeps working latex from her skin, "Want to help?"

"With?" His face is still calm. She knows it's a mask.

She brushes her fingers up her leg, letting the silk fall off her shoulder, "This."

"I think you are doing quite well on your own."

"And I think you're lying. I saw the way you looked after I whispered in your ear yesterday. You _want_."

"It was a moment of weakness."

"Lust isn't a weakness."

"Allowing one to have an emotional reaction is."

"That wasn't an emotional reaction. That was physical. Chemical. Allure at its finest. Come. Touch. See what happens."

"No."

"Not even with an open invitation?"

"No."

"Suit yourself." She continues working with the latex, slowly peeling it off her leg, rubbing cream into irritated skin up her inner thigh. Loki tries to keep his eyes averted, but the temptation is strong and he soon allows himself to openly stare. She teases and he finds himself wanting to play along. He stands and straightens his suit, then pulls a foot stool from beside the couch over to her. He sits at her feet. She rests her toes on his knee and draws little circles up his thigh. His eyes close as he rubs her calf, working the latex off with the assistance of sorcery, the red sticking to itself, balling up in his fingers, as it falls from her skin.

He's not entirely sure when his lips meet her toes, but they do, and they work her way up the arch of her foot, his other hand on her thigh. He is nearly to her knee when she slips her fingers under his chin and lifts his face, setting her foot back on the floor. She bends down to him and presses her mouth over his. He wants more than what she has given when she pushes him back on the stool and stands up, walking around him. Every inch of him wants to spring from the stool, grab her arms, and pin her against the wall. But he keeps himself carefully under control, bringing back his mask.

She stops behind him and whispers over his shoulder, close to his ear, "Don't tell me you don't want _something_. That was not the kiss of a man who isn't seeking."

"And what is it I seek?"

"Companionship. And you will accept lust if you cannot have it."

"You are wrong. I am fine alone."

"Third night. Come again tomorrow."

"No, I think I've had enough." He stands and faces her, "You are clever. But you did not win."

She grins, "Oh, yes I did. And you will be back."

He turns quickly on his heels and leaves. She sits back down at her dressing table and checks her body for any other latex. None. But she is exhausted. So she gathers her things and goes home for the night."

 


	5. Chapter 5

On the third night, Thor is tired and ready go to bed early when Loki takes a shower, dries his hair and works the tiny braids in above his ears. He lets the rest fall free back over his shoulders.

Thor turns over in bed as Loki straightens his tie and makes sure his cuffs are folded perfectly for his cufflinks, "Where are you going this late, brother?"

"To see Violetta. She has invited me for a third show."

"You are going? You swore you would not go to the second."

"My curiosity won over my senses."

"And what of tonight?"

"I am yet again curious."

"Only curious?"

"Yes, Thor. My interest is purely academic."

"And that is why you have made yourself so neat? Why you wear a white shirt and your silk scarf?"

"Is the scarf too much?"

"I think you look very nice."

"Good. She will be pleased when we meet after to discuss her production."

Thor shakes his head, grinning, "Yes, of course she will- and I am certain that is all you will discuss. If you would smile at them, you would have women falling over themselves to greet you- the same I do Perhaps even Violetta."

He puts on his jacket and buttons it, "I do not need such adoration. I have only ever wanted the devotion of a few, and not adoring crowds."

"And yet you sought them-"

"Because I could not find the attention I craved, large as it was, in any other way. You know how Odin's praise felt. As though a crowd of thousands fell at your feet in worship. And even then, the crowds fell short. We've discussed this. Repeatedly. Can I please leave now to escape this conversation?"

Thor waves him out, "Go, be with your woman."

"She's not my woman, Thor."

The door closes and Thor turns over, speaking only to himself, "Only a few more days."

Loki, meanwhile, hails a cab and tells the driver the address on the card. Upon arrival, he shows the card to the proper people and he is allowed to enter and find his table. He doesn't know the night's theme, but when the lights darken and the stage illuminates to show what appears to be an impressionist dungeon, he cringes. But he still stays. The performances include escape acts, naked women in chains hung over water who pick locks while blindfolded and climb the links performing acrobatic tricks until they drop into the water. There are fire dancers, women who work with fans of flame and clothing so tight it leaves nothing to the imagination. They seduce one another, hiding illicit touch and stolen kisses behind the fire. And then there are whips. He keeps his calm, but under his mask, he is incredibly uncomfortable, cringing with each strike. There are others in the room clearly excited by this play. And after the whips, the gold painted men return to the stage as they did the night before, elevated on the air on hooks through the skin on their backs. Once lowered, they are tended to by women who dress their bloodied backs and then carry them off stage, returning to play in silk scarves, binding one another to the implements and to each other before they mime acts that he is certain would make his brother blush. He wonders what Natasha feels when she watches these performers. Perhaps she would like to join them. His imagination wanders, picturing the redhead on the stage in a leather corset and little else. He smirks when he realizes she would likely kill him for thinking such a thing.

The final act. The stage shifts and the women bring out a figure in a black silk bag. They attach something to a hook suspended from the ceiling and raise it up, the figure writhing. The bag splits and out pours layers of silk in varying shades of red, fluttering down nearly to the floor. Loki guesses there is at least fifteen feet worth of silk trailing from Violetta's waist, the entire thing a skirt that looks like spilled blood. She wears only black lace on top. He wonders what the hook is attached to.

Those below grab the silk and weave it around her, binding her legs, tying her to points on the floor. Once she is anchored, she brings her hands from behind her and he realizes that she is hooked somewhere near her waist and was holding whatever loop or bar is behind her to keep from flipping over.

Her legs bound, she can move little when the back silk scarves drop from the ceiling and the other women climb them, starting their motion around her, biding her even more tightly until she cannot be seen. They climb onto her and use her skirts to tumble to the floor. And then, once they are down, the red silk drops to the floor and she is tied in black. She falls, slowed by the black silk as it unravels and deposits her, naked but for the lace, on the floor. When she stands, she poses, an elegant statue, as the dancers peel the lace off her, strip by strip, until she is entirely naked. Then they oil her, hands gliding on glistening skin as the light shifts red. She is gleaming in the spotlight when the stage snaps dark. When the lights return, a scrim to create silhouettes only, she is being worshipped, licked, kissed, fondled, and fucked by the other women, their moans and the sounds of bodies moving slick against one another the only music. And then the scene goes dark, the sounds continuing for a minute before silence. The house lights rise.

Loki lets himself back to Violetta's room. He knocks, but there is no answer.

"She's in the showers. You can imagine why."

"Oh, of course." The girl has red curly hair, "Gloria, correct?"

"She told you about me."

"Yes."

"Hmmm. Want to join her?"

"No, thank you. I'll wait."

"You sure? You've been here every night this weekend."

"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."

Gloria shrugs, "Suit yourself. Which, by the way, is very nice."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"The suit. Very nice. Much better fit than most of our audience. Men don't usually take care to dress themselves. You do. Or someone does for you."

"I can dress myself alone."

"Well, all of us _can_ , but where's the fun there?"

"Perhaps it isn't fun, but it's uncomplicated. Which is something in my life I am quite fond of at the moment."

"Who says having someone to dress you has to be complicated?"

"Generally interaction with other beings on a more than casual basis involves emotional attachments and sentiment- something of which I am not overly fond."

She looks him up and down, "Well that's a damned shame for at least half the population."

From down the hall, he hears, "Gloria, darling, are you harassing my guest?"

"Considering stealing him. He claims to still be unattached."

"He is."

Gloria raises an eyebrow as Violetta appears; she is wearing a thin, snug, grey t-shirt and purple boy-short underwear with little white polka-dots, her silk robe open and trailing behind her, a towel wrapped around her hair, "You're letting him into your dressing room and he's not yours? I'm telling the girls it's open season on this one next time he comes back here. We'll have him undressed before he even gets down the hall."

"Ah, let's not, ladies, shall we?" Loki protests as politely as he can.

Violetta moves both of them away from her door and opens it, "No, Gloria. This one's not for you."

He follows her in and sits on the couch after the door is closed, "Well. I'm having difficulty recalling a less comfortable conversation I've had that didn't involve my family. And...no, no. Nothing of strangers has ever been quite that awkward."

"It's not out of character for Gloria."

"I am unaccustomed to being questioned so intimately."

Violetta pulls the towel off her hair and shakes it out; she tugs the brush through the snarled heavy strands, "I thought you said you weren't coming back."

"You're an intriguing woman."

"I'm more than intriguing."

He watches her struggling to pull the brush through a cluster of knots in her hair, "Would you allow me to help?"

"And why do you want to do that if I'm only a case study?"

He steps over to the dressing table and slips the brush from her hand, bending in to kiss her cheek and say, voice low, "Because you know you're right, but I won't say it any other way." The footstool is still where he left it the evening before. He drops to one knee resting on it and with the brush and a little sorcery, eases the knots free. He brushes her hair until it lays down her back. He hadn't realised how much hair she had tucked in her twist, but it comes down to her waist and has a slight wave. "Turn your head."

"Why?"

"Because if I am to care for this hair, I need to be able to see what I am doing."

She turns her head and he begins to plait small sections back behind her ears, similar to how he keeps his own, but more elaborate, the braids weaving together so it looks as though there is a crown hidden under her locks. He asks for a ribbon and she hands him one. He braids the length of her hair and wraps the end, tying it off underneath. She inspects the woven temples and then turns towards him, a hand mirror in front of her so she can see the back in the dressing table mirror behind. "Do you like it?"

She smiles, "Yes. It's beautiful."

He shifts his weight, intending to stand, but she puts a hand on his shoulder and keeps him where he is, "Oh?"

"You aren't moving." She sets the hand mirror down and takes his face in her hands, "I haven't thanked you properly." He feels his pulse quicken as she brings her face close, but instead of trying to mask it, he lets himself enjoy the sensation, this excitement, as she opens her lips against his. He tries to tell himself he is still in control, that she is bending to him with these hungry kisses, but he knows that the eagerness is coming from him and he's only lying to himself.

She pulls back, his face upturned, eyes closed, lips still parted and he whispers, "No more?"

"Not yet. But don't try to tell me you aren't looking for something. Those lips beg to fill a void, whether with worlds or lust or love." She sits back on her stool and watches as he slowly puts back his mask.

"Perhaps." He stands, straightens his jacket, and sits on the couch.

"So who is it?"

"Pardon?"

"Who broke your heart?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do." She walks over and sits beside him, draping her legs over his lap. She waits for his reaction. He takes a long, slow breath and pushes her ankles away, closer to his knees than his crotch. "I know _men_ , Loki. People in general, actually. But you forget what I do during the day. I watch people. I find the ones who are exploited and I read them so they can find hope. And then I look for the people exploiting them by watching who's twitchy when I'm with their prey." She pauses and pulls the silk robe back up on her shoulders, "It's a survival skill you don't really forget."

He looks at her, puzzled, "Survival?"

"I told you I used to walk the streets. Men are a speciality of mine."

"I'm sorry, the phrase 'walk the streets' has a double meaning?"

"Oh. Sorry. Yes. Prostitution. I was a cheap whore for until Nat found me. And I got to know how to read men, particularly, pretty well."

"Then tell me what you think I am."

"There are a few different kinds of men who come to places like this. The ones who can't find love and live in their heads. The ones who come with partners seeking inspiration. And then there are those who may have everything in most of their lives, but they have a hole they cannot fill, a yearning for adventure, for a different sex life, to give it all up to explore everything about the world that is just out of their reach. The ones who are just curious. And you...you've lost something. I see it in your eyes. I've caught a few moments of longing deeper than just a sexual attraction. You're one of the ones looking for something. To fill a hole in your heart. Someone broke it and you've been trying to put it back together."

"You've gathered all that in these few minutes on three days?"

"People aren't hard to read once you've been around them long enough." He rests a hand on her calf and she smiles at him, "And I've been in the same place."

Loki brushes his fingers along soft skin, wondering if he should let his guard down, "Have you?"

"I was raised in the Red Room and ran away onto the streets as soon as I could. Yes. I've been broken. And I was looking for something for a long time after I was rescued."

"Did you ever find it?"

"I think so. But I still wonder."

He glances over at her. She leans against the back of the couch, relaxed, her robe untied, silk tucked around her crossed arms.

"And how do you think you know this of me?"

"Like I said, people aren't complicated."

"But I am not from this place. Nor even do I have this lifespan."

"Doesn't matter. You still think, breathe, love, and lose like the rest of us. You just have more time in which to do it. And given how many times you've questioned how I know you've been hurt, you're telling me loud and clear it's true."

He stares at her leg, at his hand against her skin, letting the mask fall, "And what if it is?"

"First- is it?"

He sighs, "Yes."

"Congratulations. You've just done the hardest work of the journey."

"Oh?"

"Admitting you hurt. It's tough. Go you."

He smiles, "Why are you doing this?"

"Same reason you are. Curiosity. And you're looking for something."

"I thought you just said you no longer were."

"No, I said I _think_ I've found it. I'm not sure yet."

"Ah. I see."

"Talk to me, Loki. You're here. You might as well."

"I'd rather not."

"Really rather not, or just default-answer rather not?"

She watches his shoulders fall and knows the answer, "I still don't understand why you ask."

"Because I do. I care about people. It's just how I am. Whether I'm rescuing them from abuse or traffickers or giving them an out from situations beyond their control. And what I ask is that people talk so I can listen, even if I'm the first person ever to give them that kind of time."

"Do you have that sort of time here? Does the theatre lock up? This could take hours."

Violetta sits up and tucks her knees beside her, scooting closer to him, close enough that she can lean against him, "I own this place. The show. The theatre. All of it. So no, nobody's going to kick us out. Clarence will see my light on and lock me in."

"And how do you know he hasn't locked you in with a madman?" His question is calm, quiet, not at all threatening, his hands folded in his lap.

"I don't. But I have pretty good intuition about people. Don't prove me wrong."

"You trust me?"

"As much as I trust anyone, yes."

"Do you know how long it's been since anyone trusted me?"

"Tell me. And start at the beginning."

He scoffs, "Oh, lovely. I have to tell over a thousand years of history."

"One step at a time."

"I was adopted. From the middle of a war- an enemy realm. My parents kept this a secret until many years later when I turned the colour of my birth race on accident. My adopted father admitted he took me a tool through which to unite the realms. My mother said she loved me. But because of the war, and years of history, the hatred between our people is strong. I learned that hatred well. The monsters parents tell their children to fear...and I am one of them. And there is where everything began. A life built on lies." He shrugs and rests his hands on his thighs, fiddling with the crease in his trousers.

"And then what happened?"

"I made a series of unwise decisions."

"How unwise?"

"I tried to destroy them. The race of my birth. And then my family. And I tried to die. But it all went wrong and I was taken by creatures I'd never seen. Broken further. Anger distilled. And given the chance to try to be equal to the brother raised to be king."

"That was trying to take over this world, right?"

"Yes. Then taken back for justice. Told by the man I once called 'father' my birthright was to have died an infant left behind in the war. The one person I still cared for, he cut off from me in my imprisonment. And because of me, she died. I was offered a chance for vengeance and took it. I had the first honest conversation I'd had with Thor in years on the way. I did what I had to. I sacrificed everything on that barren rock. And I died. I don't understand how I'm still here. I...I was run through." He rests a hand on his chest, "Here. I impaled the creature that had killed my mother and it turned, pulling me onto the blade through it. She died on his blade. So did I." He has to stop to think of how to tell the next part of the story.

Violetta rests her hand over his over the old wound, "Keep talking. You're doing good work. Hard work."

He nods and takes a deep breath, continuing, folding her hand in both of his, "I woke. I was in excruciating pain. I pulled myself together. Literally. I used what magic is in these hands to knit my flesh back together enough that I could mask the pain and return to Asgard. I switched myself onto the throne and cast the All-Father aside. I opened the Bifrost and threw him down here using the same words he'd used to cast out Thor when he had not acted his worth. He betrayed us. Me. And that leads us to the recent. Things...went wrong. I had no one to turn to without revealing that I was an imposter on the throne. I placed a steward in charge and went to beg Thor to return, to help me find the All-Father. Truly desperate, I know. The All-Father returned to the throne to clear up the mess left by his lesser son- well, formerly."

"Formerly?"

"Formerly his son. I am no more. Thor is supposed to bring me back to face justice once again in a few days. But instead I will disappear into the hidden places of the Nine Realms. He will let me go, but we will likely never see one another again."

"So that's what you're looking for, isn't it?"

"Hmmm?"

"You need a family. A place to belong. You need to be loved. And if it can't be family, you'll take adoration through fear and power."

"You deduce this from such a short conversation?"

"And a lifetime of watching human nature. People fill holes with the substitutes that make them forget the holes are still there. Money. Power. Drugs. Sleaze. Sex. It's all just ways to try to forget."

"What have you filled yours with?"

"I turned to helping kids like me. And I took back the power stolen from me on the streets with this place. I'm slowly putting together a family, too."

"But you said you thought you had found that last thing?"

"Maybe."

"How will you know?"

She shrugs, "Not sure."

He turns to face her, leaning his elbow on the back of the couch so he can rest his head on it, "Allow me one very direct question."

"I'll allow a lot more than one, but shoot."

"Why did you kiss me?"

"Which time?"

"Oh, pick one."

"First time...curiosity. You came to me in the coffee shop. You were drawn to me. I know I'm alluring. I know I can charm anyone to bend to me. I've done it before. Nat's not the only one who can make men quiver with a look. We've got very particular skills. And we're good. Why do you think I can make a living working only these few hours a night at a place that pays the girls the way I do?"

"You still haven't answered my question."

"I'm getting there. You came back. I wanted to know what you'd do if you were given the chance to touch me. I wanted to know how desperate you were for contact. You've got incredible restraint and a damned fine mask, but every man has a breaking point. You reached yours. So I knew how to play you."

"And tonight?"

"You honestly need this, even if only for a few days- your posture says everything. You were coiled like a spring when you got here and relaxed the moment we closed this door. You put the mask up when you realise you had your guard down. I noticed. And truthfully, I need it, too, even if it's brief- someone to play with, to kiss unashamedly and without reservation. Someone we can both dream about when we're alone. You can tell yourself that it was real and you can carry that with you to whatever waits. Prison. Death. A life on the run. Whatever."

"That isn't the full answer as to why you kissed me tonight."

"I wanted to."

"Well, obviously. But _why_?"

"You said I was right. And my hair is beautiful."

"That was no mere kiss of gratitude."

She rests her hand on his neck and gently pulls him toward her, "Neither is this." He doesn't resist her, his lips parted and ready when hers touch. She drapes her legs over his lap and he rests his hand on her hip, the other against her jaw. The tension melts from her body as she allows his lips to wander under her chin, along her neck, and back to her mouth, tender, gentle, and deeply eager.

His phone rings. He ignores it. It rings again and he fumbles in his jacket pocket for it and swipes the call to voicemail. It stops ringing for a moment and the starts again.

"I'm so sorry. I should check this." He looks. "Shit." He answers, "Yes, Mr Stark?"

"Thor says you're not home yet. Late night trying to take over the world?"

"No."

"So my tracking shows you at a theatre. After hours. In the back."

"If you don't mind, I'm busy. Thor should quite well be able to tell you with whom."

"Well Thor didn't know where you were."

"Then he's still an idiot, just like he always has been. Can you please leave me alone? You're destroying an absolutely delightful moment."

"Nope. Sorry, Reindeer Games. You've got a curfew for a reason. And you're out too late. Now, can you get your ass back home, buster, or do I have to send out the boys to bring you in?"

He looks over to Violetta and mouths, "I'm sorry" before answering, "I'll come home. Just give me a few moments to wrap up here."

"Nope. I need to see your feet heading out nowish or I'm sending in the team." Loki hangs up the phone and sighs, dropping back against the couch, "I'm so sorry. I...I'm not exactly trusted with my own time."

"It's OK," Violetta says, standing.

"No, it's very much not." He rises and heads for her door.

She catches his hand, "Hey. Don't walk away like that. We had a good moment. Enjoy it. Don't regret that it ended."

He stares at her for a moment, "How did one so short lived become so wise?"

"Surviving the Red Room and breaking free seems to have that effect on people...or at least the two of us who managed to leave."

"You and Natasha."

"Yeah." She opens the door, " Come on. Let me walk you out."

"Of course."

He follows her down silent, dimly lit halls to the back entrance, "If you follow the alley here, you'll be on a street you'll recognize. You can hail a cab home."

"Thank you. Will I see you again?"

"This coming from the man who told me he wouldn't be back?" she teases, smiling.

"It appears curiosity and attraction combined is a harder force to fight than I anticipated."

"Or you don't want to fight it."

"That is also distinctly possible."

"But you won't say for certain?"

"Precisely."

She chuckles, "We don't have a show tomorrow. But I'll be here. At least in the evening. Or we can meet for coffee. Or both."

"How do I contact you?"

"Hand me your phone." He does. It chirps. "Mr Stark says he doesn't appreciate your delays." She types something and hits send, "Told him to stop bothering your sexy burlesque friend while I put my number in your phone." She quickly adds herself to the contacts, "There." She gives the phone back. He kisses her one more time and she waves as she locks the door. He walks down the alley and hails a cab to take him back to Thor.

 


	6. Chapter 6

When Loki returns to Thor, he finds his brother sitting on the bed with his arms crossed, "You're late."

"That I am," Loki says, hanging up his jacket.

"Mr Stark says I should take you back to Asgard tomorrow because you broke curfew."

Loki freezes, then shakes his head and walks to his own bed, "No. Violetta has asked to see me again. I can't leave tomorrow."

"You were still with Violetta?" Thor breaks into a wide grin.

He nods and loosens his tie, tossing it on the dresser along with his cufflinks and belt, "Yes, I was. Mr Stark should have told you my location so you could assure him I was no threat."

"Why did you linger so late?"

"Because she asked."

"And since when has Loki done anything he was asked?"

"Thor, you can laugh all you want, but this woman is more than merely intriguing."

"Are you telling me she has captured your attention? Has she, in three days, drawn forth the heart you claim to no longer have?"

"Shut up, Thor." He tosses himself onto the bed.

"No! I want to know why you think you can endanger your time here, the little time we have left, for a woman you only met a few days ago."

"Because if not now, when?! Thor, I lose everything the day after next. Please. Allow me this. I am spending my days with you. My evenings with Violetta. And I don't think you have any call to warn me against seeking love in Midgard with her short-lived mortals." He tosses his arm over his eyes.

Thor walks over to Loki's bed and sits on the end, "Love? Come now, brother, you've known her a grand total of _three days_."

"Fine. Perhaps it is only lustful companionship I seek. But whatever connection I _have_ found, I want to keep it, as does she."

"Then you will keep it in your imagination only. You will either return with me in the day after next or you will disappear before I go so I can tell Father you slipped my grasp."

"And what if I want neither?"

"That is what we agreed on so as to buy you a few more days here."

Loki sits up abruptly and shoves back against the headboard, "And what if I no longer consider that a fair agreement? What if I want to...to...to... Damn you, Thor, what if I just want to live?"

"You wanting to live is you wanting to sow discord and chaos. You know I cannot allow that. You enjoy this far more than any man should."

"It is in my nature. I cannot destroy it."

"You can control it."

"You would have me cut it out, the mischief of my nature. Cut out my heart."

"No. I want your heart happy and settled like it was in our youth."

"Happy? Perhaps moreso than now, but it was never settled. You cast a long shadow, Thor, and the All-Father's sun is so unyieldingly bright."

"The All-Father was not the only person in your childhood."

"His presence dominates my memories."

"And what of your time with Mother?"

"Something for which I was mocked continually by your peers, if I recall. 'Not the proper nature for a prince of Asgard' and all that. Don't think I didn't hear the whispers."

"Did my adoration mean nothing?"

He sighs, "I don't want to talk about this. We go 'round in circles every time. Yes, it did. So why do I do this? Because I was never your equal and you never noticed. But love. Yes, I know, love. But also blindness. I always wished you would say something to the All-Father. Oh, why did I not mention it? Because you would not have understood. Or you would have denied it. Love is not enough when it cannot see."

"Loki..."

"No. Just...no." He turns over and pulls up the blankets. "I want to have coffee with her tomorrow."

"Fine. But I want to have time with you in the evening. One last time out with my brother before I have to return to Asgard."

"I can't go back."

"I know."

"I hate you."

"I know."

"I don't want to say goodbye. Not this time. So much has changed since...since I came for help."

"I know."

"Your eloquence is stunning, Thor. Has your tongue forgotten other words?" Silence. "Very well. Goodnight."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh?"

"I don't know what else to say."

Loki lets the words hang between them for a good long minute before he whispers, "I know. Neither do I."

 


	7. Chapter 7

In the morning, Loki packs. He carefully folds his clothes, tucking them into his satchel, larger on the inside than it appears on the out. He has clothes from Asgard, fine leathers and silks, that he lays on top; certain they will be more practical as travelling clothes than the suits he has grown to love in this world. He owns very little. Once every trace of him is gone from Thor's room, he texts Violetta to find out when to meet her. When he has his time, he tells Thor, breaking the morning's silence.

"Will I see you after? Promise me you will give me one more shared meal before you go."

"Yes, Thor. I will return."

Thor sighs, "Does she know how soon you leave?"

"Yes."

"And yet she still asks to see you?"

"So long as she understands how short time is, why should she not?"

"Because it is unwise to begin a friendship only to have to sever it."

"Who says we are beginning a friendship?"

"You've been with her the last two evenings. Alone. And last night you said-"

"A moment of sentimental weakness. She is a curiosity. Nothing more."

"You lie."

"And if I do? What difference does it make to you?" Loki finishes getting ready and walks out the door without allowing Thor the time to answer.

He walks to the coffee shop, even though the distance would make a cab more practical. His few hours of freedom remaining are precious and he would rather spend them moving under his own power than being shuttled in a tin can. There is something so precious about the open air, even as it stinks of city and exhaust. He lets himself think, trying to plan where he will go tomorrow. What corners of the universe in which he will take refuge. What he will stumble on while there. Or who will stumble on him. He shudders involuntarily at the thought of being found by Thanos. He knows Thor will be dispatched to find him, to drag him to Asgard for justice. None of his options are good. A few buy him a little more time. And all end badly. His heart is heavy with these thoughts when he opens the coffee shop door. He does not see Violetta, so he orders his coffee and takes a seat at one of the corner tables. He checks the phone. No messages. He waits, sipping the warm liquid slowly until it is nearly cold and she still has not arrived. He checks again. No message. He takes off his suit jacket and hangs it on the back of the chair before he orders a second coffee and wonders how long he should wait. He is halfway through when he sees her through the large windows. She fumbles with the door, nearly dropping a folder and pages awkwardly held to her chest, her briefcase in the other hand. He hurries up and meets her as another patron holds the door.

"I'm so sorry I'm late."

"What detained you?"

"I'll explain in a minute."

"May I pay for your drink?"

She is visibly relieved, "Oh god, yes. Thank you."

He gestures to the corner table, "Please. Sit." She does and he realizes he doesn't know what she wants.

"Surprise me," she calls over her shoulder.

He smiles and shakes his head as he heads to the counter. She looks stressed. He orders a mocha and delivers it to the table.

"You know well enough to bring a harried girl chocolate. You might just be a god." She winks.

He sits across from her and watches as she sorts her papers into the briefcase, then gives up and stuffs everything under the lid, latching it to keep it closed. Her long navy blue skirt is wrinkled. There is a tan smudge of makeup on the shoulder of her white button=up shirt. It isn't hers. Her lace choker has slipped sideways, the hasp visible.

"Lean forward."

"Hmmm?"

"Your necklace has twisted. I would like to fix it for you." She nods and lets him rotate it back around, "There. Now. What delayed you?"

"Work. Well, not work-work. The other work."

"Charity."

"Yeah. That."

"Are you at liberty to say more?"

"In a minute. It's been rough. I think I need to just take a few to just breathe."

They sit in silence, sipping coffee. She has slipped off her shoes and, behind the shield of her skirt, gently touches his ankle with her toe. He reflexively moves his foot back. She shakes her head ever so slightly and reaches for him again, brushing his trousers until she can gently hook her toes under the cuff and tug. She sees him smile, eyes focused downward, hiding behind his paper coffee mug as he lets her pull his leg back closer, her foot lightly stroking his calf.

"You tell me so much without ever saying a word."

"Oh?" his mask is back in place, his smile more distant, cool.

She shrugs and rests a hand on her briefcase, "So this morning."

"Yes," he prompts, happy the attention is off him, at least in so public a location.

"The police called us. They were doing a drug bust last night and found some kids in locked attic in this crack house. They wouldn't talk. They were terrified. Only a few of them were proficient English speakers. So we sent translators, social workers, and we discovered this was a lot bigger than one house. The police did their thing, and I went out to do mine with their permission. I knew what to ask, how to ask it...and where to look for other kids. I'm probably on a couple more hit lists after today. But I found them, called on my network to smuggle them out. Called in the police. We got them to the safe house, interviewed them...it's pretty horrifying. I had kids crying on my shoulder. One girl tried to bite me, she was so terrified of the police officer in the room- we had to send him out and bring in a plain-clothes detective instead. I had to restrain one of the boys because he attacked one of the men who accompanies me into interviews. Another girl tried to stab herself with a hypodermic needle in the middle of the session. The police missed searching her- too many kids, not enough officers... It was chaos. I wish they would have let us take lead. We have a different way of doing things. But the safe house is in crisis mode, we've got several kids on suicide watch. The drug intervention team has been called in, our staff's going to be all-hands-on deck for the next few weeks, at least. We've called in some of our standby foster parents, too, just to have other people around to talk to these kids. The youngest is 9. The oldest is 15. All of them have been through hell."

"I'm impressed you came at all."

"I had to. I need a break. I only have an hour, but...this is lunch. Coffee."

"Please, allow me to purchase you something to eat."

"That's sweet, but I'm not sure I can keep anything down."

"They have fruit- it is light and will sustain at least a little." He rests his hand at her elbow, "Just try. You'll need your strength for the rest of the day."

She nods, "OK." He slips from the table and returns in a few moments with a small cup of fruit and a fork. He steps beside her and she sits back, wondering what he is doing. He places the cup in front of her and tugs a napkin from the dispenser, placing it to the right of the food, the fork resting on it. He pats her shoulder before sitting down.

"There. A lovely little place setting."

She smiles and laughs lightly, "I've never had someone formally arrange plasticware for me."

"You've never been attended by a prince, either. And yet here we are."

She picks at the fruit, trying little pieces first. Beneath the table, she rests her foot on his, her toes holding his ankle. She eats and he watches, wishing he had more time.

She finishes and sets down the fork. He slides the rubbish from in front of her and takes it to the bin. He sits and her foot returns to resting on his. He offers her his hand and she places hers in it.

"Thank you, Loki."

"You're welcome."

"Please stop by tonight. When we can take more time to say goodbye."

"I have promised to spend time with Thor this evening."

"After."

"Curfew."

"Hand me your phone." He does, "One of Stark's models?"

"Yes."

"He can track you with it, on or off. Leave it home."

"I have no doubt he's tracking me other ways as well. Not just the phone."

"I know." She takes out her own phone and dials a number, "But I might have a way to take care of that."

It rings a few times and he can hear a familiar voice on the other end, "Hey, Vi. What's up?"

"Hello, Nat. I have a favour to ask."

"Oh? This favour wouldn't happen to have to do with a certain god of mischief, would it?"

"It does."

"I know you've been with him the past few nights. Tony hasn't let it go that he was out after curfew yesterday. And I know he was with you."

"I intend for him to be tonight as well. Keep them away."

"Vi..."

"I don't care how you have to do it."

"You do remember that he tried to take over New York, right? The casualty rate was pretty low, but before that, he killed 80 people in two days and terrorized a gallery in Stuttgart. God knows what he's done off Earth."

"I understand. I was in the middle of the attack, remember? Central Station."

"Vi, this is crazy."

"I know. And it is his last night before Thor takes him. And for that night, I am _laying_ _claim_. You can tell Mr Stark that if he has an issue with it, he may take it up with _me_ in person tomorrow. I will be sure to be in fine form if he wants a meeting."

"You mean you'll make sure there's leather involved."

"I'll make sure he's quaking in his Armani on first sight. I can be an imposing woman, Nat."

"Yeah, I know. He's not going to take this well."

"Too bad. I don't really care how he takes it, so long as he knows I'm serious."

"And what if something happens?"

"You mean to me?"

"Duh. You're asking for an unsupervised night with a guy who tries to take over planets as a hobby."

"It won't."

"Don't be stupid, Vi."

"I'm not being stupid. I'm staring at him, glaring a bit, and saying 'it won't' because he knows I see through him. And it won't."

Natasha groans, "Oh my god, you're talking in front of him."

"Of course I am. That's part of how we work, isn't it? We're perfectly transparent when we want to be, spelling out our terms, what we will do, with little to guess. It builds the anticipation. Sweetens the victory when we get what we desire."

"You're not in that life anymore."

"Am I not? Perhaps not for a government. But the skills are the same to my work. You know this. It's about the airs. The acting. The persona we create for different people and different settings. Being willing to take pain in stride, risk everything, and destroy when asked. To be used." She isn't just talking to Natasha as she holds Loki's gaze. "My profession is still about creating illusions and manipulating others. I am truth only in daylight and in my sanctuary."

"But you're talking about spending time alone with Loki! He may have been the perfect gentleman last night. The night before. When we all went together. But that doesn't change what else he's been."

"And in a life of thousands of years, who has that been?" Silence. "You know only what little Thor has told you and those few days in Earth. At least allow me the same few days for chance encounters of the opposite nature."

Natasha sighs, "Fine. I'll keep Tony off his ass for one night."

"Thank you, darling."

"You owe me."

"Well given what I owe you already, what's one more debt?"

"Bye, Vi."

"Goodbye, Nat." She hangs up the phone. "There. That's settled." She puts her phone away and puts both hands around her cup, "Once Thor has retired for the evening, come to the theatre." She pulls out a single key on a ring, "Here's my insurance. I want this back. But it is also what will let you in. So you have to see me before you leave." She sets it on the table by his cup.

"You assume I wouldn't leave it with Thor to return?"

"You assume Thor is returning."

"He seems drawn to this place."

"And you are princes of a world beyond- who's to say he won't be needed at home for longer than I'm alive?"

Loki pauses, "You said on the phone that this is how you work- the conversation in the open, the manipulation. Being used. Is this truth or is this a game to you?"

She smiles and reaches for his hand; he slips it back, "What is it to you?"

"I was honest last night. I meant what I said, even when I said I would not return. A changed mind is not a lie."

"I know. I have every intention of continuing to be honest with you, just like I was when I told you I need this, too."

"So this is truth."

"Yes." She offers her hand and he rests his over hers.

"Thank you, Violetta. I look forward to seeing you tonight."

"Just come in. I'll probably be rehearsing alone. Maybe stuff for the show, maybe my own dreams. Either way. You have the key."

He picks it up and slips it in his coat pocket, "And what should I expect of this encounter?"

She grins and stands, "Why, Loki...I wouldn't tell you the ending. That would only spoil the surprise."

He joins her and offers an arm, "Allow me to escort you back to your work?"

"Oh, that's just too sweet. I'm not sure I can maintain my fearsome reputation if I'm being escorted by such a dashing gentleman." But she accepts his arm and he picks up her briefcase after tossing his empty paper cup in the bin from halfway across the room.

Being on his arm turns to holding hands partway to the old brick storefront out of which her office operates; at the door, he kisses her cheek, "I will see you tonight, lovely Violetta. Take care of yourself the rest of this day."

She blushes, the first time since he has known her- it endearing and surprises him, "Thank you." She turns and walks into the building. He hails a cab to take him back to Thor. He has a spring in his step and his heart feels lighter than it has in years.


	8. Chapter 8

Thor meets Loki at the door after his coffee date, "Well. That took longer than I expected."

"I'm sorry, were you timing me?" Loki furrows his brow, offended, and waits for Thor to let him pass.

"Yes. You said it would be a brief encounter. It was not."

"She was late. Rescuing trafficked children took longer than she expected."

Thor raises an eyebrow, "What?"

"Will you just let me in?"

"No. Not until I know you are telling the truth."

"You still don't trust me?"

"Do you me?"

Loki sighs and leans on the frame, "Her day work. Unpaid. She volunteers her time to rescue those who are exploited and thrown away. Today, the police discovered many children who were imprisoned. So she was quite busy helping to rescue them. Is that so hard to understand?"

"Who trapped them? I was not aware this was something done in Midgard."

"I assume it was for sexual exploitation, given her explanation. She said it was a drug raid. I don't know what that means."

"It means the police were doing serious work trying to catch those who deal in illegal substances when they found the children."

"And that is why our meeting took longer. She was unable to break free from her work when she anticipated. She came, harried, as quickly as she could."

"Violetta is one of Midgard's true heroes." Thor steps back to allow him in the apartment.

Loki nods and brushes past Thor, "It seems that way. She is a deeply caring woman."

"And does she care for you?"

"It appears that she does, to some capacity."

"Loki...you leave with me tomorrow."

"Or I disappear before. I know. I understand this."

"You are going to hurt her."

"I am going to say goodbye tonight after you and I have had our time together. She and I both understand our time is fleeting."

"That is past Mr Stark's curfew."

"Agent Romanov has said she will help keep him away. Or unaware. I don't know which. But Violetta called her."

Thor drops his face into his hand, "You're making a terrible mistake."

"I'm living what little of my life I have left to the fullest extent. Are you not glad that I have found companionship in Midgard? As you have Jane?"

"You know I no longer have Jane. At least not at the present."

"Fine. As you _had_ Jane. It's not my fault you lost her."

"And how is it that you suddenly can find a Midgardian woman worthy? I remember words spat on the Bifrost, a dismissal that it could ever be a woman from this realm that distracted my heart. A promise to visit her yourself. And what would you have done on that visit, Loki? Destroyed her slowly out of spite for me? Or done your business quickly, violence against her body a weapon of war a threat you knew you could use to enrage me? You would have used her so easily. As though she were nothing, less than a being, and yet you suddenly find this one worth your time?"

"They were words said in anger, Thor- words calculated to drive a wedge. And I was still so young."

"You are _still_ so young! It has only been a few years!"

"Long ones. Painful ones. Tortuous, even. You know this. One cannot keep one's innocence in the Void."

"You? Innocent before it?"

"Yes. In certain ways, very much." He carefully sits on the end of the bed.

Thor wants to push the matter, but the quiet way his brother answers, the way he averts his eyes even in the silence after, and the little uncomfortable way he folds his hands all tell Thor not to ask farther; he sighs, "Loki, just promise me you are not just thinking of this as a game. Of only yourself. Tell me you are considering her heart as well."

"Yes. And were I not, I think Violetta would know anyway. She has a keen eye for lies. Perhaps better than I, even."

"Now that would be an accomplishment." Thor pulls his chair to sit across from Loki, "So. What shall we do this afternoon and evening?"

"Walk. Take supper somewhere. Perhaps we should go out."

"Splendid. Let us wander the city until we find a delicious smelling restaurant and take supper. Then we will have some time to talk on our walk back here. We can say our goodnights and you can find your friend."

Loki nods, "Except for the part where you attempt to draw out a long heart-to-heart about why I should come back to Asgard with you. That bit, I think we'll skip."

"You really don't intend to return with me?"

"No. I don't. A life on the run is still better than the dungeons of Asgard. I cannot return there. Not to the place I was kept useless while our mother was run through."

"I can ask Father to put you in a different part of the prison-"

"No. That doesn't make a difference!" He stands suddenly and paces by the window, "I'm sorry. We're trying to be better brothers. Not snappish and always at war." He sighs, "I can't go back. End of discussion. I don't know where I will go, but go I will."

Thor nods, "I will be sent after you. You do know that? And I will find you. I can't pretend to lose your trail forever. Heimdall will know."

"Yes, I know." He settles back on the end of the bed, "Do not think running is the easy decision, Thor."

"Would you ever consider coming home?"

"Not so long as the All-Father draws breath."

"Would that I could have both my father and my brother again."

"No. You cannot."

"But why?"

"There would have been hope after I fell if he did not say what he said as I stood a prisoner at his feet. And for that condemnation, for making my worthlessness clear and tearing me from my mother, I cannot forgive."

"I do not consider you worthless. I wish he would have allowed me to stand beside you."

"He sent you both out. He wanted me alone."

"I do not understand why. You understood the gravity of your actions even in your most flippant moment. You may sometimes be foolish, but you are never stupid."

"With no one to defend me, the cuts struck as deeply as they could. No grief from her eyes. No righteous indignant glare from you. Not a single word or look to tell me I was yet cared for, perhaps even loved, no matter my mistakes. Now do you understand?"

"Isolation for the one who craves for others to give him worth."

Loki sighs, "I hate how that sounds."

"Because it is true."

"Yes. Because it is true."

There is a moment of silence before either of them speak; Thor stands and rests a hand on Loki's shoulder, "Let's go for a walk. We'll wander the city until we are tired and hungry. Then we will seek food."

Loki stands, straightens his suit, and nods in agreement, "Agreed. The bright day will be a lovely way to end this adventure and journey to Midgard."


	9. Chapter 9

After supper, Loki walks Thor back to his apartment. Thor cannot stand the silence and attempts to converse as Loki makes coffee.

"I still do not understand your attachment to Violetta, brother."

"As I did not yours for Jane. Was it not a similarly short time in which you fell for her?"

"Yes, but-"

"But you weren't a wicked, evil creature at the time. Yes, I know. It should be impossible for me."

"Loki..."

He sighs and sits on the couch, "Thor, can you not simply be happy that I have found someone? That I have one friend in the Nine outside of yourself with whom my heart is satisfied?"

"Are you asking me to accept that you were wrong?"

"In this one instance, yes."

"Oh ho! Then it truly must be a monumental thing, if proud Loki will admit to his fault," Thor laughs. But Loki doesn't find it funny.

His shoulders slump, "Proud Loki has been wrong in so many ways."

Thor stops and sits beside him; he puts a hand on the back of Loki's shoulder, "Your heart is heavy."

"So often, yes."

"But with Violetta, you feel better?"

"Yes."

"More yourself, even if you do not know what that means?"

"Yes."

Thor pats Loki's back, "Then you have found something remarkable indeed." He takes a deep breath, "Give me just a little more time before you go to her."

They sit close together on the couch while watching an old television show until Thor is snoring. Loki picks up his bag and leaves, his phone still on the nightstand. He walks into the early night, the streetlamps replacing the sunset. When he reaches the theatre, the back door is locked. He lets himself in, locking the door behind him and tucking the key in his watch pocket. The theatre is quiet as he first starts walking, but then there is music coming from the stage. He walks faster, wondering what she is doing.

He steps through the side curtain and into the dining area. The lyrics of the song are striking- something that catches his ear as soon as he understands the words.

_I was born sick  
But I love it  
Command me to be well_

On the stage, Violetta dances. It is not the sexual dance of these previous nights. There are no others. No stage settings. She wears some sort of band binding her breasts under a sheer silk sleeveless tunic that barely brushes past the short nude trunks covering her rear. The grace and strength in her poses as she goes up on her toes in hard-tipped shoes is unlike anything Loki has ever seen. He leans against the apron of the stage on crossed arms, gaping at the way her muscles move under her skin, at her athleticism, a side of her he has never seen.

The song is intense, too, from its music to its lyrics, and the tempo shifts between verse and chorus and bridge. She dances with a surgical precision and intense power so different from her show material. So he watches, staring in awe.

_I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife_

She doesn't react to his presence, rehearsing her piece with dedicated steps and focus. She leaps, soars, spins, and drops to do floor work. He has never seen someone move like she does, her body the art itself. And then the music stops as she folds herself onto the floor. She holds her pose for a moment, frozen in the dance. After a moment held in silence, she relaxes, dropping back into herself.

Still on her knees, she turns to the front of the stage, "Hey." She waves, sheepish, "Sorry. I had to finish the run-through."

"For what do you apologize?"

"I should have waited on that one. I knew you were coming."

"And? That was stunning. May I come up?"

She nods, "Sure." He turns around and pushes himself to sit on the apron of the stage, spinning around to stand in one fluid motion.

He walks over to her, brushing off his suit, and offers her his hand; she accepts and stands close, pulling his arms around her, "Hello, Violetta. You are an incredibly talented woman."

"Oh?"

"That dance. It was remarkable. Did you write it yourself?"

"Oh, no. It's one I saw in a video. But the person who choreographed it didn't do it en pointe. I had to make a few changes. But it really does work well for it."

"I have never seen one dance on one's toes such as that."

"They don't have that where you're from?"

"No." His face is merely inches from hers, "Such power and elegance..." He does not finish his thought, bending in to kiss her, one hand cupped against her jaw. She places her hands on his shoulders and rises on her toes to meet his lips. Her breath catches in her throat and she pushes his hair back, intent on letting things happen however they will without her doubts stopping her. Open mouths meet tentatively, the newness of one another not erased by the previous night's encounter, little tastes teasing to sink deeper.

He pulls back, "Shall we go back to your room?"

"Why? There's no one else here."

"Yes, but I've seen you touched, kissed...so very intimately on this stage. And it seems such a public place because of it. I'd rather be where I won't think of sharing you."

She laughs and takes the hand that rests on her face, "Come on. I need to take off these shoes anyway. Dancers need to care for their stuff." Leading him off the stage, she pauses in the wings and touches a few keys on a pad on the wall. The entire stage goes black and it is so dark that Loki cannot see her in front of him. He feels her turn to face him, her hands resting on his shoulders. She kisses him, deep and slow, a lingering tease in the dark. She pulls him along until she opens the hall door. Even the dim light is momentarily blinding, and he takes a moment to adjust before walking farther down the hallway. She still has his hand.

In her room, she sits at her dressing table and hops her feet up on the stool so she can take off her pointe shoes more easily. One at a time, untied, the laces slowly dragged away from her skin. The shoes and padding go in a silk bag she hangs on the edge of her dressing table. After, she chooses a tube of lotion and begins to rub down her legs.

She smiles at him, "You can help, if you like."

He sits on the stool, gently massaging her legs and feet. She sighs, happy, and sits back to let him without her interference. He eases the tension from her muscles inch by inch. By the time he reaches her hips, her eyes are closed and he wonders if she is sleeping, a little smile on her face. He takes her hands and, working a little on each side at a time, he inches his way up to her shoulders, standing over her to rub the tension from her neck, slender fingers careful not to rest on her throat.

He bends low and places a gentle kiss at the corner of her lips, "Rest. I will not leave while you sleep."

She sighs, "I'm not asleep. Close, but not yet."

"Oh. My apologies."

She reaches up and drapes her arms around his neck before he can walk back to the couch, "Why be sorry?"

"I thought perhaps I woke you."

"No. Never quite fell asleep. But you have magic hands."

"In more ways than one."

She smirks and raises an eyebrow, "Do I dare ask?"

He blushes and then carefully puts back up his mask as he sits back on the stool, her arms still around his neck, "In the world I come from, science and magic are one and the same. Magic is not something odd or unheard of. It is a skill many are able to use at least in small, household ways. And then there are those of us who study it as scholars and tap into far more dangerous arts. My mastery is in illusion and stealth. I am no great warrior like my brother, but I can twist reality so those I fight cannot trust their eyes."

"Oh. Wow."

With a glimmer, there is a second Loki pacing by the door in his ceremonial armour. And then a third examining the world outside the window with the sceptre. A fourth appears lounging on her couch in a simple tunic and trousers.

She giggles, "This could be interesting in my profession."

"It would be possible to create an entire stage show with no truth to it. Only illusion. But I think it would be far less fun."

"Of course it would be 'far less fun,' says the Loki by the window, "Directing an entire production from one's mind means there's no room for input from the other performers. They can't contribute their own fantasies. And I would gather there are some in your troupe who are sinfully creative."

"But perhaps you could create a world for them. Backdrops. The theatre could melt away to another world. Or the audience could find themselves suddenly clothed in utterly nothing, envisioning themselves entirely alone with this view on the stage," adds the one by the door.

The Loki on the couch shrugs, "But why go through all the trouble when you could just live in the illusions yourself if you so wished? Who needs power over them when you have power over an entire world as it exists in your mind?"

Violetta stands and walks to the window Loki, "Oh, you have no idea how sinful some of my girls are. Gloria makes me look like a saint." She attempts to drag her fingers across his chest and it glimmers as she passes through him. He grins at her, so she walks through his arm to get to the one by the door, "And I prefer minimalism. Let their imaginations take them places. It's more satisfying for them that way. I don't need a fully authentic dungeon on stage. They'll supply that on their own. Also, do you have any idea how...messy...it could be if they thought they were alone?" Door Loki shrugs, "No, I already have to hear from the janitors about who jacked off under the tables. I'm not making that easier." She drifts to couch Loki and tries to touch his hair. The illusion shimmers under her fingers, "Minds are wonderful things, but they have limits. I like to feed off the imaginations of others. Their fantasies. Intimacy with another is exciting when you satisfy something they have been dreaming for." She returns to the dressing table and sits, "But I get the feeling the 'living in your head' thing is a bit more autobiographical than you're admitting."

The other Lokis vanish, "For a time, yes, it was. When the world seems to have abandoned you, why live in it?"

"And now?"

"Now there are more pressing things than illusion."

She leans forward, hands on his shoulders, and rests her forehead on his, "Tell me."

"Thor says I am unwise to cultivate this relationship when I will be leaving so soon."

"Question avoidance. Tell me."

"No."

"You've already said so much over the past few days. You're seeking something. People. Companionship. Your heart hurts."

"Yes."

"So tell me what's pressing on it."

"No."

"If you only have right now and we'll never see each other again, why not?"

"Because it will only lead to more questions."

"Why is that bad? You may get a few thousand years to live, but I get ninety at best. Likely fewer. When your time's this short, you can't waste it hemming and hawing about whether or not to ask or else you'll never get the chance to look for answers. Or more questions. That's the thing about mortality. You can't just leave stuff for later- you're going to drop dead and some day, later's too late."

He sighs, "You have no idea what is out there, beyond the Nine. What lies between the branches of the world tree. And I go willingly into it to hide."

"You can't hide somewhere else?"

"I would be too easily found."

"And why can't you go back with Thor?"

"Because justice will be death."

She slips onto his lap and hugs him, "I'm sorry."

He holds her tightly, "Thank you. I don't want to die."

"Come on. Let's go sit on the couch."

"Why?"

"Easier to cuddle."

They move over and he tries to regain his distant composure but gives up when Violetta has him lay down so she can rest on top of him. She wriggles her way up so they are eye level with one another.

"Are you quite done moving yet?"

She kisses his nose, "Yes."

"Ah. I suppose you've made yourself comfortable?"

She brushes her fingers through his hair, "Take down the mask and tell me the other reason you won't go back with Thor."

"I told you. I don't want to die."

"There's another reason. Or reasons. I'm thinking more than one. Does one of them have to do with your mother's death?"

"Violetta, please...I don't want to talk about this."

"I know. And that's exactly why I'm pushing you. I don't know if you've even admitted it to yourself, but there are words you need to say out loud. Do it. You might not get another chance once you're alone on the run, and it certainly won't be with me."

"Yes, part of it has to do with her death." She waits, patient, gently stroking his cheek, "I told the monster that killed her to take the stairs that led it closer to her. And because I was imprisoned, I was nowhere near. The guard told me she was gone, 'My lord, the queen is dead.' I cannot go back to those cells. That prison."

He has kept his voice mostly dispassionate and calm, something of which he is incredibly proud as he stares at the ceiling, avoiding her eyes, but leaning his cheek into her hand.

"There's something else, too, isn't there?"

"What more could there be?"

"Keep talking. You're doing good work. Hard work. Don't stop."

Her voice is comforting, soft, and gentle; he wonders if this is how she talks to the people who walk into her charity, "I was thrown away. By the man who once tricked me into calling him Father when all I was to him was a stolen relic. My mother is dead. I have no reason to return to Asgard when Asgard has so cast me aside."

"Thor seems to love you. Do you have any friends who would miss you?"

"No. Three of the four said they would kill me were I to betray my brother. It is clear who they love and who they do not."

"And Thor?"

"Will miss me either if I am locked up and then killed or if I am out in the wide universe, running. At least I will be alive for a while for him to hunt if I am not in Asgard. And if he never hears if I die, which he likely wouldn't, he can hold onto hope for the rest of his life that he might yet find me."

She kisses his cheek, "Loki, I've heard words like these coming from the people I rescue. Kids thrown out of their parents' lives for one reason or another, runaways, stolen people, people with very little hope for anything better. For some of them, it really is as bad as they think it is at home. For others, though, it's not. Their family misses them, even though they said horrible things. I'm not saying you should go back, but I am saying you should think about keeping the lines of communication open some time in the future."

"No. Not after this last disaster. I was a competent leader for a while, but Asgard is a difficult ship to steer and I did not have compassion for those in need. There was a rebellion. I did not know how to quell it without bloodshed. I did not want to kill those I was meant to serve. They did nothing to me. They did not deserve the hands of their brothers to wield weapons against them. But might was the only way I knew. I ordered a strike to push them back. Despite all my plans, some of our people died. Including children." He meets her eyes, "I am a monster, Violetta. From our stories. The Frost Giants that kill unruly little ones who sneak out of their beds after dark..."

"A mistake doesn't make you a monster," she says, quiet, "If it does...well, you don't know much of my story. It's not pretty."

"Oh?"

"But we're talking about you right now. You came to Thor to find the All-Father?"

He returns his attention to the ceiling, "Yes. That is why I came here. And we did find him. He was ragged, but regal, and I dropped to my knees and begged for him to return to Asgard to undo all I had broken. It...is not a moment I am proud of. But it was all I could think of to convince him my blunders were serious enough he had no choice but to return. If even proud and unyielding Loki was on his knees..."

"What did you promise him?"

"I did not say I promised him anything."

"Your eyes say something different."

"I told him my life was forfeit to the crown in compensation."

"And?"

"He accepted the offer. One word. 'Yes'- I've wanted a yes from him for so long, but not this way. He said nothing else to me. Only to Thor." She pushes her fingers into his hair and he looks up at her, "If I return, I will die." She closes her eyes; it hurts that his death is certain, one way or another.

"What will he think if you run?"

"That I am a coward and cannot follow through on my bargains. That I cheat. That I lied. No worse of me than he thinks now, I'm sure."

"Did you lie?"

"No. But I hope to avoid payment of that debt for at least a little while."

Violetta nuzzles against his neck, "I'm going to miss you, my lost boy."

"You hardly know me."

"I know enough to miss you."

He sits up a little and props himself up on his elbows; she still rests against his chest, her head on his shoulder, "Why?"

"I just will. It isn't every day I meet someone like you. Intelligent. Attractive. Clever. And I admit, the dangerous edge is alluring, too. You and I, we could be something if we had the chance- I feel a spark. I don't know how long the something would last, if it would just burn bright and fast and leave us both walking away, or if I'd die with you still beside me, but...well, it would be worth it either way."

He is still confused, "But _why_? How can you believe this?"

"Why not?"

"Because I killed eighty people in two days! I tried to destroy all of Jotunheim because I couldn't handle my own blood, I killed how many here in New York? I don't even _know_. And then I went on to break my own realm with my inability to rule. I am _not_ loveable. I am _not_ worthy of kindness and care. I am worth _precisely_ what I was given in the Void!" He drops back on the couch and she falls against his chest. He expects her to leave. She doesn't move. He squeezes his eyes closed, "I'm sorry. You are the one person I know who has only ever shown kindness."

"Take a deep breath. Then tell me what happened there."

"Absolutely not." He stares at the ceiling, but he takes the deep breath and tries to calm himself.

"Would it help if I told you I spent my day listening to children tell me about sexual abuse? Beatings? Brainwashing? Would that convince you I can handle whatever you need to say?"

"I don't need to say anything."

"It hurts too much to say it, doesn't it? You relive it when you think about it. The words just make it more real." Violetta brushes a finger under the edge of his jaw along pale, soft skin.

He jerks away, "Don't."

"I was strangled once. One of the Johns. After I fled Russia. The big cities provide a lot of cover and if you're a hooker, nobody notices you. Not even the people who want you dead. But you'll notice in my shows that none of my cast ever touches my neck. And my clothes are always open at the throat. No Victorian collars for me."

Loki meets her gaze, brow pinched in worry, "What?"

"To which part?"

"Someone wanted you dead? And you were strangled?"

"Well, the strangling wasn't related to the someones who wanted me dead. That was just some angry guy who didn't like the way I fucked him. Occupational hazard of a whore, I guess-"

"Oh no. Violetta..." He cups her cheek in his palm.

"There's a reason I rescue people. The other options are considerably worse."

"Who wanted to kill you? Do they still?" He is genuinely concerned.

"Undoubtedly."

He doesn't know why he feels so protective of her, but he puts his hands on her arms so very gently, "Please explain."

"I grew up with Natasha. I know you know some of her history. She told me about the helicarrier. We were both children in the Red Room. Assassin training and brainwashing centre disguised as an elite ballet school- and we did learn dance. You don't leave the Red Room. Not unless you're dead. They chained us to our beds at night."

"And you wanted out?"

"Yes. And I wanted it before the graduation ceremony. I should be dead, honestly. But lockpicking was one of the things I excelled at. Lockpicking and stealth. So I managed to do what no other girl had. They'd tried and they were killed by one of their peers. I smuggled myself out of Russia. I know what it's like to starve. I disappeared here. Took a new name- one I wanted, rather one I was given. Did what I had to for survival."

"Did they come for you?"

"Yes. I kept moving. When Nat found me, I thought she was with them. But she wasn't. She was with SHIELD. She told me she had a choice- she could kill me or take me in. I went with her. And I begged to have a life outside of it all. They offered me a position with them, just like Nat. I turned it down. I just wanted to live quietly. So they made my new name legitimately mine and set me up with a quiet apartment that is constantly under their watch to keep me safe and let me live my life as me."

"You're like me. You know what it is like to flee. To have no home. And to be no one to anyone but those who want you dead." That there is anyone else like him is an astonishing revelation.

"I do. I was lucky. So I had reminders of just how remarkable my survival was tattooed o my arms." She shows him one forearm, "It's from a book- 'Song of Solomon', 'If you wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down.' And this side is from a poem written to welcome those seeking refuge into this country, but I translated it to Russian and wrote it in Cyrillic, 'I lift my lamp beside the golden door'- one is the escape, the other the refuge."

"That's beautiful."

"It's true. And things I need to remember every day. I have to let go of what I've been. I've found my golden door. Now I give back every day in thanks."

Loki kisses the inside of her arm where the dark ink stands out sharp on pale skin, "Violetta, is this short time too soon to feel something for one another?"

She smiles and snuggles down against his chest, "No, it's not."

"Oh. I suppose that would explain why I don't want to leave."

"Will you tell me what happened in the Void before you go?"

He sighs and wraps his arms around her, "Everything I could imagine that would be used to break a man and create in him only anger, resentment, and pain. And then things I had never imagined because they were too awful to consider possible. Cuts. Burns. Chains. Beatings. Rape. Strangulation. Hanging. Piercing. Infections. Surgery. Drowning. Delusions and illusions. Psychological warfare. And things I cannot describe because I do not know what to call them and I was only somewhat conscious when they were happening to me."

"Oh my god." She squeezes her eyes closed and hugs him as best she can while laying on him, "No wonder you were so ready to destroy a city to take over our world. It was a way out."

"Success was not optional."

"But you failed."

"I did. And thankfully they haven't found me yet. Hiding as Asgard's king bought me time."

"You're going to die if you run."

"I will die if I don't." She is quiet and he strokes her hair, "Thank you for the few days of respite and care. I will carry it with me."

"Why can't you stay here?"

"Your realm has no way to fight Thanos. I will not bring him here."

"Other places might have a chance?"

"Not much of one, but yes. I won't lure him to a world, though. There are plenty of hidden places where he can catch me without causing death to millions of others."

She reaches up and rests her hand against his cheek, "Kiss me."

"Not that I don't enjoy it, but why now?"

"Because there's a very real possibility I might never see you again and I don't intend to leave anything unsaid."

He lifts her up farther on his chest and waits for her. She smiles and brings her lips to his. Innocent little sips quickly turn deep and hungry, her hands in his hair, his under the silk tunic, resting on bare skin, slipping under the band around her breasts.

Her phone rings. She stops.

"Please ignore it."

"I can't. I'm so sorry. That's the emergency ring."

She goes to her dressing table and answers, "Hello? Yes. Oh my god. I'll be there. Just...keep him talking." She tosses down the phone and strips off the tunic, digging for other clothing in the dressing table drawer. "I'm so sorry, Loki. One of my boys is trying to kill himself. He's on the bridge..."

Loki sits up and straightens his clothes, "You're a hero, Violetta."

"Heroes make sacrifices. I don't want to go."

"I know. But you must. To save a life."

Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, she pulls him from the couch and kisses him goodbye, "If you're ever in this part of the universe again, please, find me."

He nods and gets his bag from where he dropped it beside the door. He follows her out of the theatre and they stand on the sidewalk for a moment before she nods and turns to walk away.

Loki sighs, heart heavy, and starts walking the other direction. There is a gateway off this world in Harlem. He knows where it will take him. Far away. Exactly where he wants to go.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Violetta has only been in bed a few hours when her phone rings. It isn't an emergency ring, but she checks the number so she knows who to curse out when she sees them next. The first three digits tell her it's a Stark phone.

She picks up, "Hello?"

"Violetta?"

She recognizes the voice, "Thor. Why are you calling?"

"Loki. Is he with you?"

"No. We said goodbye last night."

Thor sighs, "I am calling you on his phone. He left it here."

"Well he won't exactly need it while he's wandering the universe. I doubt there are cell towers between worlds."

"Did he tell you where he was going? Jotunheim? Alfheim? Svartalfheim?"

"He said he wasn't going to lure Thanos to a world where he'd kill millions. That's all I know."

"Oh."

"You woke me up to ask me the obvious. He's not here. He's not anywhere I know. I saw him last on the sidewalk as I went to talk a kid out of jumping off a bridge. He went the other way."

Thor is clearly struggling with his thoughts, she can tell by his voice, "Oh. I...I hoped...I hoped he would change his mind."

Violetta sits up, "Would you like to meet me for coffee so you can talk this through? I don't go in the office for a few more hours. And since I'm up, I'd like some caffeine."

"No, but thank you. I must return to Asgard. Father has sent for me."

"Take care of yourself."

"Did he...did he say anything else?"

"He said a lot else. He feels guilty for his mother's death. He thinks he's alone. He feels like he has no home. And he knows he can either die when he's executed in Asgard or die out wherever Thanos gets him. But I don't think any of this is new to you. You were looking for something else. Something about you."

"Yes."

"He said that if he dies alone somewhere between worlds, you can always just not know and hold out hope that he's still alive somewhere." She pauses and yawns, "Sorry. I don't think he wants to hurt you. I think he wants to avoid that at all costs. No long goodbyes. No making you watch an execution. No finding his body. I just think he sucks at trying to tell you he loves you and he's too damned proud to admit it." She doesn't know if it's at all true, but it is what Thor needs to hear.

"Thank you. I will find him. And I will defeat Thanos. My brother will not flee forever."

"Be careful, Thor. I think it would be even worse for him if you died while chasing him. He'd have one more death to feel responsible for and it would be one as hard as his mother's."

"I understand. Goodbye, Violetta. I hope I can bring him to you once again- he seemed more himself these past few days. I know he was growing fond of you."

"Goodbye. Take care of yourself."

"I will." He hangs up the phone. She tosses hers aside and falls out of bed, stripping out of the clothes she wore the night before. She dresses carefully- long black skirt, long black silk tunic split up the sides, held together with delicate ties, and a black scarf to cover her hair. It seems appropriate for a woman in private mourning. She picks up her suitcase and heads to the coffee shop, hoping against all hope that some day he will once again meet her there.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Loki wanders aimlessly between worlds, using his trickery to survive. It isn't easy. His fine leathers and silks from Asgard are in tatters by the time he makes his way back to Midgard nearly four years after his departure. He is tired. He knows he is far enough from anyone pursuing him that it is safe for a moment of rest- the first in his entire time on the run. He doesn't bother changing his clothes, but casts an illusion to appear less rough. He walks through Harlem trying to determine the time. It is dark. There are few lights on in the shops. He doesn't know if Violetta will be at the theatre, but there are lights on when he arrives, so he lingers in the alley, hiding in shadow and magic. He sees her step out last, locking the door after her.

She starts to walk away when he calls to her, "Violetta. Please. Wait."

She freezes and turns slowly to see who is behind her, not trusting the name her memory tells her to expect, "Yes?"

He steps into the light, "Hello."

She runs to him and throws her arms around him, "Oh my god, it's you."

"I can't stay, but I need rest. Just a few hours. Please, can you help?"

She looks at him carefully, noticing the glimmer under her hands that looks so much like the illusions he cast in her dressing room years before, "Is this really you? Why are you shiny?" She pokes him and stares at the glow.

"I...appear considerably less appealing, let's just leave it at that. I need to bathe and acquire comfortable clothing."

"Are you safe?"

"No. But I have a little time before they catch up to me. I will be gone before then. I promise. I won't endanger you."

She takes his hand and leads him from the alley and down the street. They walk several blocks before she puts his arm around her waist and they walk considerably closer together.

After a few more blocks, he stops her and pulls her against him, chest to chest, "May I kiss you?"

"Loki, I... It's been four years."

"I'm sorry. That's a lot longer time for you than it is for me." He bows his head, "It was rude to assume you still even could."

"I'm not married or attached or anything if that's what you mean." He nods and drops his arms to his side.

"I still shouldn't be so forward. I apologize. These past few years have left me with little company." He offers her his arm, "Shall we continue?"

She nod and slips her arm through his, "Yes." After a few steps, though, she stops and turns to face him, "I've missed you." She touches his face and pushes his hair back, then goes up on her toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. His lips part and he gasps near silently, an involuntary little sound that surprises her. "You're so eager..." she says, her face still close to his.

"Isn't there a saying about absence making one's heart fonder?"

"Is that it? Or are you desperate for any contact? Would any woman do?"

He brushes his nose against hers, "I came _here_ for a reason, Violetta." She teases, little nipping kisses against his mouth.

"Let's get to my place, then. A quiet sanctuary."

"Please." They walk with arms around one another to an alley. She turns down it and walks to a fire escape. She climbs the stairs and he follows her up the creaking metal. On the fourth floor, she climbs onto a balcony and unlocks a door. She steps in and turns on the light.

The apartment is large and open, a single room with a bathroom carved out of the back wall between two large windows, a laundry station beside it. There are few amenities. An ancient stove and refrigerator. A porcelain farmhouse sink with double drainboards supported on cast iron pipe legs. A battered dining table. A few bookshelves made of boards and cinder blocks. A record player sits on old apple crates that hold the albums. There is a small end table stacked with electronic pieces and her computer. A rack of her clothes with plastic baskets below it holding socks and underwear. And her bed, a mattress and box spring on the floor beside a milk crate with a piece of scrap granite countertop affixed to the top as a nightstand.

She shrugs as she sets her bag by the door, "Well. Here it is. Certainly not fitting for a prince, but it's what I've got."

"It is warm and dry and a relief. Thank you so much for this help."

She walks him to the bathroom, "So it's just a shower, but it'll get you clean. Take your time. I'm going to get ready for bed. Then I'll make us something to eat." He takes his bag in and she retreats to the clothes rack. She strips and throws her clothes into a laundry basket before pulling on a silk tank top and shorts. She grabs a cotton robe and wraps it snugly around her, the evening chill too much for just the silk. She pulls down her tightly twisted hair, letting it curl and bounce as she shakes it out. Then she goes to her kitchen and opens the fridge. He is showering. She can hear the water running. She pulls some burger patties from the freezer and starts them cooking on the stovetop, cutting vegetables while they sizzle. She slices a few potatoes and tosses them in oil and spices, putting them in the oven on high. The shower turns off. She pulls dishes from the cabinets above the sink and sets them on the table.

Loki steps from the bathroom, illusion gone, combing his fingers through his hair. He digs through his bag and finds a brush. He sits at the table with his soiled and tattered clothes in his hands. He is wearing his suit trousers and white shirt. He has not worn them since his last visit.

"Do you think we can mend these?"

She takes one look at what is left of his silk shirt and shakes her head, "No. That's not really even a shirt anymore, sweetheart. I'm sorry."

"Oh. The trousers are just as bad."

"Is that what you've been wearing?"

"Yes."

She sighs, "I'll make a call. You just relax." She takes out her phone and texts someone. A few moments later, the phone rings and she answers, "Hey, Nat."

"Vi, I swear I just read a text that said you've got a missing person in your apartment. A missing person one of our allies has a lot of interest in."

"You did."

"And I swear I read that you don't want that news to get out."

"You did."

"And he needs clothes."

"I sent you a size."

"You want me, in the middle of the night, to bring you clothes for him."

"The other option is I have a naked god in my apartment all night. Which, I have to say, doesn't sound like a bad proposal." Loki smiles and blushes, his eyes on the table. She walks over to him and rests a hand on his shoulder, "Look, Nat. If you won't, you won't. I'll leave him here and I'll go out. But given how tired he looks, I thought it would be best if I let him rest and make supper. He came here for a reason. I want to let him have it."

"I'll be over. But make him puts some clothes on."

"Yes, darling."

"Shut up, Vi." She hangs up.

Violetta sets the phone on the table, "So. There will be clothes. You can save the ones you're wearing."

"And these?" He holds up the rags.

"The only thing I can think of to do with them is to leave them for sewing scraps. There's not much left."

"It's been a rough four years."

"I can see this." She steps back to the stove and checks on supper before returning to the table. She sits on the edge beside him and lifts his chin, "You've gotten thinner." She brushes his cheekbones, "More angled. You haven't been eating enough. Or sleeping well."

"I have to keep moving. It doesn't leave much time for taking care of one's self."

"How sick are you?"

"Sick?"

"You look like you've been ill."

"How could you tell that, aside from what else ails me?"

"I don't know. You just seem a little less _you_. Like you need time to recover from more than a lack of food and sleep."

"Well that is true. And I am recovering from a bout of a rather horrible illness that effects my race far more than others. Don't worry, it's not something you can catch." She furrows her brow, worried, "I had to stop in Muspelheim for a while to lose my pursuers. It is a world of flame. And as I was adopted from a world of ice...well, there is a heat sickness I was unaware I could contract. It lasted for nearly a month at its worst. And I'm a few weeks beyond that."

She brushes her fingers through his hair, gentle, reassuring, and concerned hands so calming after what he has felt the past four years. And then there is a knock on the door off the fire escape. She smiles and kisses his forehead before walking to answer it.

"Vi, I swear to god, if he's naked in here, I'm going to make fun of you for years."

"He's not."

"Damn."

"Did you find clothing?"

"Yeah. I think it'll fit." She hands Violetta a bag, "Is he staying long?"

"I don't think so. We only just got here. He met me on my way home."

"Why now?"

"He needs rest. We'll talk tonight. Please, Natasha. Let me take time with him. This isn't an interrogation. He's done nothing wrong. Not this time."

Natasha listens. Violetta's voice is quiet, but firm, and there is clearly some concern behind it.

"Fine. I'll trust you. But you'd better call if there's a change in plans or if he stays longer than just the night."

"I will. And thank you."

"Yeah, well, just be careful. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Nat." The door closes. She returns to the table and hands him the clothes, slipping the damaged garments from him, "See if they fit. We have time to exchange them if they don't." He starts to head to the bathroom, "You don't have to change privately if you don't want to. I'm not opposed to the male body."

He stops and she sees that his cheeks are tinged pink again. She checks on the food and then walks back to him, taking his hands from his shirt buttons and undoing them herself. He unfastens his cuffs. She slips his shirt from his shoulders and runs her hands down his arms until it flutters to the floor. He slips on the black v-neck t-shirt. She unfastens his trousers and he steps out of them and into the long black wide-legged trousers with a tie at the waist. They are soft and he loves the way they feel on his tired legs. She hands him a pair of socks and hangs the hoodie on the back of the chair while he folds his other clothing and tucks it carefully into his satchel. When he returns to the table, she is preparing burgers and dishing fries straight from the oven. He sets the table and she serves. They sit together.

"So. Are the clothes comfortable?"

"Very."

"Good. I hope you like burgers. It's quick food."

He smiles and takes a delicate bite, "It is delicious."

"Don't try to be polite about it. You're not at a state dinner. Dig in." She winks and takes a bite, tomato dribbling down her fingers. She giggles.

He relaxes. No one is watching, other than her. He knows he has half a day before they figure out where he is. And despite Thor's assurance that he would find and kill Thanos first, his brother is even farther behind. But at least for these hours, he can enjoy himself.

After supper, she washes dishes. He wipes down the table and then wraps his arms around her while she stands at the sink, patiently waiting for her to finish, happy to be close.

Dishes put away, she turns in his arms, resting her hands on his shoulders, "So. How long do you have?"

"Only a few hours. I can probably spare eight, but beyond that, I will lose my lead and they will catch me here. Even that is close and risking capture."

"What will they do to you when they find you?"

"Terrible things. Until I scream for death. And then they will do worse." Her heart sinks; he kisses her forehead and they stand, quiet, for a few moments, "Let's get some rest."

"I don't want them to do terrible things to you," she whispers.

"Violetta...would you rather I lie? I will if you ask." It is an honest question.

"No."

He holds her tight, his cheek resting on her hair, "Tell me, why not?"

"I've been there. Been hunted. Known what was coming and braced myself for the worst. If you feel that, too, I want to know. Because...well, as stupid as this sounds, I love you. I've known you for a sum total of less than a week, in actual experienced time. But..."

He hunches, against her, his face tucked against her shoulder. His breath hitches. It takes her a moment to realise he is crying. She doesn't try to move him, to stop him, stand him up. She holds him. Rubs his back. Kisses his shoulder. And waits.

Slowly, he calms, putting back up the distant, disaffected mask she saw so often when she first met him, "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"Yes, you do. Don't lie to me, Loki. I know bullshit when I see it. Come on. Let's go sit on the bed. We can rest together and you can talk this through."

"There's nothing to talk through."

"You just burst into tears when I told you I love you. There's definitely something to talk through."

"I assure you. A moment of sentimental weakness."

She smiles, "Honey...that would be if you got misty eyed at a song on the radio. Not this." He reaches to hastily brush his cheeks, but she is already there, gently wiping them dry with the sleeve of her robe, "Don't be afraid or ashamed of your heart. They tried to train it out of me. Harden me to the world. Never let anyone do that to you. Even yourself."

He lets her lead him to the bed. She drops the robe on the floor and slips under the sheets, pulling them back to invite him to join her. He stares at the bed a moment before carefully sitting on the edge. She watches. His shoulders are tense. He seems overly cautious. His hands grip the edge of the mattress.

She sits up, "When was the last time you shared a bed with someone?"

"Willingly?"

She slides beside him, "Look at me, Loki."

"I'm sorry."

"Never be sorry for what others have done to you."

"Oh."

"Now. You have a lot to say, don't you?"

"No."

"Are you lying to protect yourself?"

"Yes."

"I'm not going to hurt you. You know that, right?"

"I do."

"OK. So let's start back with why you were so overwhelmed when I said-"

"Because it's been so very long since I was loved. I've been running four years. I've had a lot of time to think. I let her die, Violetta. The only person who loved me without condition. My brother tried, but he doesn't know how to love the mess. He loves what I was. A memory. I do not know if he can love what I am after the Void."

"I think you need to give him a chance. If he wants to, he'll learn."

"I don't have time to give him. But he is, at least, still following me. He's behind the others who hunt, but he still tries."

"And? There's more. I can hear it in your voice."

"This is our fifth day. Partial day. You know everything I've done in this world. All Natasha has told you. And you still approached me first and foremost as a friend. I don't understand."

"Your invasion nearly killed me. I was in Central Station. Stuck there. The...creatures- whatever they were-"

"The Chitauri."

"Yeah. They were lined up on the balconies. We were fish in a barrel. I was praying. I'm a trained assassin. I don't pray. But I did then. You're lucky that there were Avengers around to stop it. To crash through the glass and distract them, evacuate us...I don't remember much of how it all happened, other than we went from being trapped by aliens, ready to die, to running like hell out of the building. Me. Running. When I could have been fighting like Natasha, slaughtering the creatures without a second thought."

"May I ask why you are telling me this?"

"I'm getting there. I...I went home and thought. I thought a lot. And I came to the conclusion that there had to be something deeply wrong in your past to make you do what you did. We aren't born killers. We're born curious. And people like me, like you, we're made. Somebody gets us when we're little or hurt, when we're vulnerable, and they take out what we _are_ and put in something different. So I started to wonder who unmade you. What happened to you that you were able to disregard all of us, lead an army you didn't seem to have much control over, and try to take over this world? Nat and I had ice cream and watched romance movies while talking over everything. She told me what she knew. Everything Thor told her. And it only made me ask more questions."

"So when you met me..."

"You weren't an enemy. You were just like me. Only nobody had rescued you yet."

Loki turns to Violetta and takes her hand, "Rescued me?"

"Well, yeah."

"Like how Natasha rescued you?"

"Yes. She gave me a chance to be what I needed to be."

"And who will rescue me?"

She smiles, "If you want me to."

He cups her chin in his hand and kisses her in response. She pulls him farther onto the bed and they lay down together.

"I can't be rescued yet. If I stay in one place-"

"You'll die. I know. But a rescue doesn't have to happen that way. Sometimes, you can't get all the way out. Sometimes it's just your heart that's rescued."

He curls against her, his face pressed to her chest, "Thank you."

She lifts his chin, "We have one night. Not even a whole night. What can I do for you?"

"I don't know. But it's been years."

"Huh?"

"Since I went to bed with someone else willingly. Since before the Void. But here I am."

Violetta brushes his hair back from his face, "May I touch you? All of you? Intimately?"

"You want...?"

"You. We'll take it slow. Listen to each other. I've been hurt, too. Sex is...different...after you've been used. But not impossible. It just takes more effort. You have to really want it. Be dedicated to finding what works. Talk. Read each others' bodies. And have patience."

He breaks into a wide smile, relaxed and genuine, "You really want this? Me?"

"I wouldn't have you in my bed if I didn't." She laughs, stroking his hair, kissing his face, guiding his hands over her breasts as he slowly explores her. They take hours together, careful touch, gentle movement. They love slowly, whispering questions to one another as they try to discover what they can and can't do. They climax together, lips still touching as they gasp and shudder under the sheets. They lay together, holding one another close. She slowly begins to fall asleep against him.

"Loki?"

"Yes, Violetta?"

"The alarms' set. When it goes off, kiss me, get showered and dressed, and run for your life."

"I don't want to leave."

"I know."

"Thank you. For everything. I love you."

"I love you, too. And that's why I need you alive."

"I'll come back. I swear, if it is within my power..."

"Don't promise me anything. You don't know if you can keep it."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. We're where we can be. Now. Rest." She closes her eyes and falls asleep on his chest. Loki strokes Violetta's hair, tucking the errant locks behind her ear. He kisses her forehead and lets sleep claim him, wishing he didn't have to wake up and leave her.

 


	12. Chapter 12

The alarm wakes Loki, yanking him from his deep rest. He carefully disentangles himself from Violetta, tucks the blankets around her, and slips to the bathroom. He can't stop thinking about how beautiful the curves of her body are under the sheet, how the cotton drapes over her skin. After a quick shower, he dresses in the soft clothes from Natasha and kneels beside the bed. He brushes back Violetta's hair, marvelling at how lovely she is, even dishevelled in her sleep. He kisses her forehead and whispers goodbye. He grabs his bag. He leaves the apartment before she wakes and flees to the portal in Harlem, hoping he will some day be back.

Violetta wakes alone and it hits her that Loki might never return. She touches her lips and cries into the pillow before she tumbles out of bed to the shower. She stands under the hot water and lets it mix with her tears. She dries. She finds clothes. Black. But her heart isn't into being elegant and she dresses out of obligation to the image she has cultivated as the dark angel appearing in dark, forgotten corners of the citys. She makes breakfast, tries to push memories of the night out of her mind, and gets ready for the next day of work on the streets.

And Loki runs, jumping from world to world as he feels his way along Yggdrasil's branches through tears in the fabric of each realm, falling between them as often as he can. He hides, he steals, he does what he has to for survival, trading illusion, skills, sex, lies for food and shelter when he can. And then he hears rumblings that there is a war happening. That Thor has found Thanos and all realms are called to fight alongside Asgard's prince. He creeps to the field of battle- an asteroid field, or series of rocky planets, he isn't sure. But he knows it well. It is where he fell. Where he was tortured and broken. He knows the terrain better than most. He does not fight, but he casts illusions to confuse the battle, hiding as best he can, leading Thor where he needs to be, drawing the armies together with cleverness and sorcery.

It is Jotunheim that reaches Thanos first, their ice something he has so rarely seen at its most powerful. Whomever leads them has the Cask of Ancient Winters. Thanos laughs at it and shatters their warriors one by one. The slaughter has Loki feeling ill. He cannot figure out a way to change the tide of the war. But Thanos does not have every Infinity Stone and the Gauntlet cannot destroy as quickly as he wishes. The powers of the stones he does have make fighting him difficult. Waves of Chitauri kill their opposition indiscriminately.

It ends as suddenly as it started. Mortals with Infinity Stones join forces, their combined powers, even without the Gauntlet, are enough to weaken Thanos, to bring him to his knees. Mjolnir finishes the work. Knowing he will be found when the battle clears, Loki slips away once again and disappears between Yggdrasil's branches.


	13. Chapter 13

Loki has been on the run for eight years. He is tired. He is lonely. And he is on the edge of starvation. As weak as he is, he carefully dresses in his black suit, black shirt, and dark tie, braids back his long hair, and tucks what is left of his soft clothes in the satchel. He takes a deep breath and calls on all his courage as he drops every shield he has in place to keep the Watcher from seeing him.

"Heimdall? Please. Bring me to Asgard." He closes his eyes and waits, hoping that he has been heard. The Bifrost envelops him and he soon steps onto the Bridge, the glimmering city before him. He stares, centuries of memories overwhelming his indifferent mask. They are so much harder to hide now that he stares at the place where they were made. He reminds himself why he is here and walks to the control room.

Heimdall steps forward to block his path, "You have returned."

"Only for a short while. I seek a brief audience with the king. Then I will go."

"Your purpose?"

"My own. Please. I will no longer be shrouded. It is over."

Heimdall nods and lets him pass.

As Loki walks to the palace, he realizes how out of place he feels. How his clothes don't fit right from the years of stress, hunger, lack of sleep, and even illness. How much this does not feel like home, his years as prince behind him. When he reaches the gate, he bows to the guards.

"Would you please inform the king that Loki wishes an audience?"

He is allowed in one courtyard while a messenger is sent to the throne. He tries to stand and wait patiently, hands folded in front of him, a nervous habit he has had all his life. A habit he knows he shared with his mother.

The messenger returns, "Yes, sir. You will be seen." Loki follows him, guards escorting him through halls that are so very familiar and yet so foreign. He both yearns to return to this place and also wants to flee.

He is announced in the throne room. Guards escort him down the long expanse of the hall to the throne. He drops to his knee at the base of the great steps.

"My lord. Please. While I respect your position here, I did ask to speak to the king."

Thor rises from his seat, "I am king now, Loki. Father has been dead these past two years."

The news hits Loki far harder than he thought it could; he bows his head and takes a moment to collect himself, "My deep condolences. I did not know."

"I did not think you would. You have been well hidden."

"I...I have had my reasons."

"I know. And until I took this throne, I never stopped looking for you. Once Asgard fell on my shoulders, I had no choice but to leave that up to others. But I have the feeling that this is not why you have come."

"No, it is not."

"You should face our justice, Loki. But I am inclined to hear what you have come to ask before I hand down a sentence."

Loki swallows hard, all his very carefully rehearsed words meant for the All-Father, not his brother, "I...I came to offer you something. A bargain."

"You believe you have something Asgard might want? You already promised your life in order to save the realm from your recklessness. You did not fulfil that bargain. Why would we seek to make another with you?"

He reaches into his jacket's watch pocket and pulls out a key, "This key is to the one place I greatly desire to be. It is, symbolically, the key to my heart. I cannot return to the dungeons here. I cannot rot where I made my most grave mistakes and severed myself from the woman who loved me through all my failings. And there is another woman, one to whom I must return this key, who asked that I return to her if I were ever able. It would be cruel to ask you to deliver to her news of my execution. What I propose instead is this- take my long life and cast me out. Leave me what little of my sorcery I need to survive, for you know that those of us as bound to it as I am cannot live completely cut off from it. Use the words the All-Father used to throw you to Midgard, words I used to do the same to him. Make me one of them. Diminish my strength. My life. Asgard will get her sacrifice. A part of me will die. And all of me will die in only a few short decades. But it will not hurt her and I will be able to keep a promise made not with words, but with lips and hands beneath the sheets."

Thor stares at him, "Brother...you ask far more than I was prepared to give. This is a grave decision. Something that will be difficult to undo. And yet you seem to have no qualms with it."

"I don't. I've spent the last eight years alone, Thor, save for one night I sneaked with her. I am tired of running. Of hiding. Heimdall will always be able to see me, I have told him I will no longer hide. I need to rest. To heal. And I know she can bring that to me."

"It has been years. How do you know if she will take you back?"

"I don't. I don't know anything of her life for the past four years. But I have to try."

"And what if I give you this and she is no longer yours?"

"Then I will only be lonely a few decades. Death will come quickly."

"And what of me?"

"We made our peace, Thor. And you kept your heart true, searching while I was being hunted. I knew where you were. I knew you were always right behind. And I knew when you fought him. I saw. I was there. I did what I could to help the fight from my hidden places and I watched Earth's heroes fell him before your hammer gave the final blow. You have been the best brother I could have asked for. But I am no longer the man you knew before the Void. And I do not think I can ever be that man again. So I ask you to please let me go." His mask is carefully in place, but the heartbreak on Thor's face makes it hard to keep steady.

Thor walks down the steps and stands in front of him. He reaches out and places his hands on Loki's too-thin arms before pulling him into a gentle, firm embrace. Loki rests against him and hugs him back.

"Brother, is this truly what you want?"

"Yes, Thor. It is. Please. If you have ever loved me..."

"I still love you. I have missed you. There is a hole in my heart I will never fill with you gone."

"I know. And I am sorry that I have caused so much pain. I...I have had time to think. I am ready to be rescued."

"But not by me."

"Not entirely. But if you cast me out, you will make the rest of it possible."

Thor rests his hand behind Loki's head as he has so many times through their youth, their foreheads touching as he makes the hardest decision he thinks he has ever made, "If this is what you need to truly heal, to become whatever it is you need to be _now_ , then this is what I will do."

Loki sighs with relief, "Thank you, brother."

"Is there anything you require of Asgard before I do this?"

"It would be nice not to start my new life completely destitute."

"I will make arrangements. There is gold enough here, and Mr Stark has made it possible to convert currencies. You will not want. I will have him instruct you on how to access an account in your name."

"Thank you."

"What else?"

"There are a few things from my rooms I might like. Books, particularly. But I will have to have a place to live before I bring them. Could you send a messenger after Heimdall says I have settled so that I might send a list?"

"I will bring you here myself so I will not make a mistake. But I would like to send you with a few things now, if you will allow it."

Loki nods, "So long as they are small."

Thor takes him back through the palace to his rooms. He takes a package from his desk and slips it into Loki's satchel with the instructions he is not to look at it until he is safely in Midgard. They stop in Loki's rooms and he chooses a few articles of clothing that he has always treasured and tucks them in his bag. There are two books he cannot leave behind and these he tucks in the last of the space he has. And then, once again, he stands beside Thor on the Bridge. Thor drives Gungnir into the control panel and speaks the words.

"I, Thor, cast you out in the name of Asgard. You are unworthy of this realm, unworthy of your title, unworthy of the loved ones you have betrayed. I hearby take of you your long life. That magic which is not necessary to sustain you, your powers. In the name of my father, and his father before him..." Tears stream down Thor's face. In this moment, he allows complete vulnerability. "Forgive me brother. You _are_ worthy, even if the spell says you are not..." He thrusts Mjolnir towards Loki, "I cast you out." The energy crackles and Loki finds himself sucked through the portal, his satchel clutched to his chest. He lands somewhere green. He stares at the sky, stunned. It is night, but the city lights make the stars difficult to see. He slowly stands, this new feeling of mortality entirely disorienting. He knows where he is. Central Park. He digs through his bag to find the last of the money he stole from Thor eight years before. He hails a cab and shows them the little red card he has kept so carefully for these years. While he rides, he peers in the package tucked in his bag. His heart skips when he sees what is in it and he keeps it carefully hidden. It is late- he knows the show will have already started. He pays the fare and hopes the card will still admit him.

It does, doors opened, a ticket in an envelope at the window. He takes his seat at the same table at which he first sat. There are women on the stage suspended by ribbons. He waits and watches, their athleticism and sensuality as captivating as they were years before. It is the suspension show, changed a bit through the years, but also in ways very similar to the one he saw the first time. And at the end, she still lands on the stage, a body that then descends, covered in blood. He slips out during the applause and waits for men painted in gold to allow him back to see the dancers. They barely recognize him, but Gloria passes at the right moment.

"Gloria! Please! I've come so far. Let her know I'm here."

"Well if it isn't mister on-the-run. You come back to break her heart again?"

"No. I never want to break it again. I've made my peace with my brother. It's over."

"Really? I know you were back four years ago."

"Please, I beg you let her make her own decision as to if she wishes to see me again."

Gloria sighs, "Fine. But I'm not letting you out of my sight." She waves for him to follow and they walk down the hall to the room with the dark red door, "Wait here. She's not back yet. She wanted to wash the blood off her first. We're not using latex anymore. She was reacting to it."

Loki waits; he hears his name from down the hall. Violetta shoves past her dancers, walking quickly, looking for him. When she sees him, she breaks into a run. She throws her arms around him and hugs him.

"Is it true? It's really you?"

"Yes, Violetta, it's really me."

"Tell me something only the two of us could know."

He leans in so he can whisper in her ear, "We've known one another less than a week and yet I have seen the very small brand from your years on the street on the inside of your right thigh. You hide it with makeup when you perform."

She touches his face, "How long can you stay this time?"

"A lifetime."

"What?"

"A lifetime. I...I asked the king of Asgard for a very specific payment of my debt."

"I don't understand."

"I owed Asgard my life. I asked that I be released from my long life, my powers limited to that which I need to survive, rather than face execution. Asgard...Thor...saw this as a suitable sacrifice."

"But...why? And what about the others hunting you?"

"They are dead." He kisses her forehead, "And because I love you. Will you still have me?"

"Dead? It's really over, then? All the running?"

He nods, "I thought it was such a short time, but now that I can feel myself aging...it isn't." She falls, crying, against his chest; he holds her and sighs, "Of course, I should not presume that you have not given your heart to another in all these years. I would not blame you if you did." She can't stop crying long enough to answer, so he holds her tries to whisper comforts.

When she has collected herself, she stands, wipes her eyes on the sleeve of her robe, and shakes her head, "No. I haven't. It's too difficult to know who to trust. People want the image, not the person."

"Can we retreat to your room? Somewhere a little more private?"

She opens the door, "Of course."

Gloria calls from down the hall, "I don't trust this, Vi. It's been too long."

"It's not your choice," Violetta replies.

"Just don't coming crying to me if he fucks and runs- you know, like he did already once."

She closes the door; Loki stands beside the couch, waiting for her, "Violetta...I'm so sorry."

"For?"

"Leaving. I had to, I know, but it seems to have left a sour taste behind with your friend."

"I tried to talk to her about it after- not because I was mad, but because I missed you and needed to tell someone how much you meant to me. She didn't really understand. Nat was a far better sister to me." She steps in front of him and takes his hands, "Tell me about the last four years."

"There was a lot of running. And a war so brutal that even seasoned warriors blanched at the bloodshed. But it ended the hunt. And more hiding."

"Why did you wait to come back?"

"Fear. I did not know what Asgard would do."

"So why now?"

"Because I am so tired, Violetta. And I am starving. While Asgard could feed my body, Midgard will nourish my soul as well. Did you not notice the shimmer of illusion on my face when you touched it?"

"I did. And I felt your bones through your clothes. Even your hands are so thin. But you've gotten better at hiding it."

"I had a few years with little else to do."

"Do you have a place to go?"

"No. I landed in this realm in Central Park. I came immediately here."

"Will you show me what you look like?"

"Not until I can rest. I have little energy to maintain the mask and I do not want to put it back up again once I have it down. Not until after I've slept."

She puts his arms around her waist and rests her hand against his cheek, "Then I suppose I should put some clothes on so we can get you settled."

"Settled?"

"Yes. You need your rest. I'll get you something to eat- just a little, to start. I don't want you to get sick."

"Are you asking me to come back to your flat?"

She smiles, "Well, yes. Where else would I bring my prince?"

"I no longer hold that title."

"Not in Asgard. But in my heart? Titles are not so easily stripped." She stands on her toes to reach his lips and they kiss. "And you still _are_ my prince. I felt that little shudder."

He sighs, weary, "I love you even yet, Miss Violetta. Now. Tell me about your last four years. After we sit. I fear I might fall over if I don't."

They rest on the couch, curled together; she can feel his ribs protruding and wonders just how skeletal he is under the illusion, "They've been rough, to say the least. The clientèle here has gone from high class to worse. The need for my other work has increased- more kids fleeing, more people thrown aside, more addicts, more trafficked bodies. And there's never enough help to go around. A few of my dancers got into trouble with the law. A few more went to the streets. Demand for sex is higher right now. I don't know what's going on. But we had some changes in power at the national level and now more men are making more demands to us out in the open, so girls are taking more risks and charging accordingly. Our security's been higher. Both here and there. My gold men have had to take a few people out by force. We had to call the police in the middle of a show. One of my girls was kidnapped- they still haven't found her. We all know she's probably dead. And they got me, too. In the alley, after locking up."

"What do you mean, they got you, too?"

"I was raped, Loki. Dragged farther down the alley, out of the light, forced down by a pair of men, penetrated by three. It was horrific." She curls a little more tightly into him.

"Oh, gods..." He can think of nothing else to say, so he pulls her protectively close.

"I had a baby, too."

He stares, "What?"

"I had a baby- before the rape. I didn't want to keep him, but when I met him...I couldn't put him down. So if you want me, it's not going to be the same. I have a son. He'll be four later this year."

"Does his father watch him while you work?"

"No. His Auntie Natasha has him in the evenings. He goes to the day centre at Mr Stark's tower. We have breakfast together and Nat picks him up to take him with her. We're close."

"Are you and she lovers?"

"No. My sister, in a strange way."

Loki can't help but ask the impertinent question, "Does his father know of him?"

"He does now," she does not look up at him, instead drawing circles on his chest with her fingertip.

It takes him a moment to realize what she has told him and his eyes widen, "What? I...I have...I have a son?"

She smiles, "Yes."

"I have a son."

She giggles, "Yes. A beautiful, curious, mischievous, daring dark haired boy with bright eyes."

"Has he ever asked of his father?"

"Yes."

"And what did you tell him?"

"That his father and I loved one another very dearly but there were bad people trying to hurt him, so he left to keep us safe. I told him that if it is ever possible for his father to come back he will. He said he would. And he is a man of his word."

"What did you tell him of why I was being chased?"

"You made some very bad decisions when you were very angry and very hurt. They came home to roost. And even though you wanted to make things better, you ran so they wouldn't hurt you. I assured him his uncle was trying to help you and maybe some day he would get to meet him, too."

"Does he know of New York?"

"Somewhat. He knows that I was there. He knows you made the mess happen. But he's not even four, Loki. We don't get into much depth on history yet."

"May I see him?"

"Well if you're coming to live with me, where do you think he'll be?"

He laughs, overjoyed by everything he has heard. He kisses Violetta in earnest and they lose track of time kissing and touching as the theatre shuts down. Hearing no other voices in the hall, she checks the time and realizes how late it is. She changes into comfortable clothes and locks up the theatre. He keeps watch while her back is to the alley and puts his arm around her as they walk.

"Do you live the same place you did when I was here last?"

"Yeah. But I have walls now. We needed bedrooms. So Natasha had Mr Startk buy the building and...well, we've had some fun with it. I have two bedrooms in the back, one on either side of the bathroom. Laundry station's in my room. And a nice big, open front room with the kitchen in it. We even have real beds."

"Well, you certainly are living fancy."

She laughs, "Yeah, we're finally comfortable. The rent was insane before. I made decent money, but not good enough for two. And not good enough for furniture. Once the building was under new ownership, the rents went way down. He's not in it for the money. He's got plenty of that. So he wanted to make it affordable for all of us. He even redid the ground floor shops and we've got a maker's collective there for all the residents. Most of us are women. Most of the women are a lot poorer than I am. I love that he's made it so we can better take care of each other."

There is a question he has not had the chance to ask, one that her account of the four years raised, "Violetta, do you like your work? It has brought you harm. Your clients are no longer what they once were. Do you still want it?"

"I have to do something to support myself."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps the account Thor has said he will be putting in my name will be bountiful enough to care for the both of us."

She leans into him, "We'll see. I'd like to get out, to be honest. I've been doing this for years and I'm not thrilled to go to work each night. But I don't know what else I could be."

"Would there be a position related to your day work?"

"Not unless I went back to school. I'd need to get into social work. I've thought about it. I just don't know how it could happen."

"Why do you not?"

"It's expensive. And I don't know how I could do it while working, volunteering, and raising Kit."

"I hope Thor showers us with a fortune." He pauses, "Is that his name? Kit?"

"Khristofor, actually- Russian. It's not a name you hear much there, and no one here will spell it right. But Kit's an old nickname. I like it better than Khris, even if the whole rest of the world decides to use that name. Kit's what I call him. There was a writer- Marlowe- who shortened his name the same way."

They climb the fire escape, step over to the balcony, and she unlocks the door; as it opens, a small voice yells, "MOM!" and they hear fast little footsteps running across the apartment. She steps in and crouches down to meet a little ball of energy, a slender boy with wild long black hair bouncing with every step. He throws himself into his mother's arms and laughs.

Loki presses a hand over his mouth in absolute awe of this little person who looks so much like him and so much like Violetta. Natasha stands from the couch and puts away the stack of books in her lap.

"Come on, Kit. Let your mom get in the door. You need to help me pick up. Auntie Nat needs to get some sleep tonight." He skips back to the couch and helps pick up the toys and books scattered around it. Natasha notices Loki and drops the stack in her hands, "You're back."

"Yes. For good this time. And under remarkable circumstances."

"Oh?"

"Asgard satisfied her justice by taking my long life. I will live as long as one of you."

"How is that justice?"

"Because I gave up my title, my life, most of the sorcery in these fingers, before I knew if I would have a place here. Our king saw it as a fitting sacrifice."

"So why are you _here_?"

He watches Violetta hang up her bag and put her shoes in a cupboard, Kit eager to help, "Because here is where I am loved."

Violetta smiles at him and Natasha takes a deep breath, "OK. So I guess we've got a few changes coming."

"I don't want to be an intrusion. But I do want to know my family."

"That might be considered an intrusion."

Violetta stands and lifts Kit to her hip, "Nat...no. This is us. He's home. We'll make this work. You're not going to lose your evenings with Kit. We're family. And that includes you."

Natasha finishes picking up and refills her travel mug with coffee, "Good. Because I think I'd be strongly opposed to losing evenings...or changing our mornings. But I'll let you get settled in. I think there's an introduction you're going to want to make without me in your hair." She kisses Violetta's cheek as she passes, "Call me if you need anything, Vi." She stops in front of Loki, "And you'd damned well better be telling the truth or I'll take matters into my own hands. I won't even call Thor."

"I assure you, I am."

"You'll have to forgive me if I don't quite trust your word yet." Loki wants to quip asking when he has ever lied to her but instead finds it better to hold his tongue and bow his head to Natasha in acknowledgement. She doesn't expect the silence and leaves quickly.

The door once again closed, Kit snuggles into his mother's neck, "I missed you, Momma. I like Auntie Nat, but I had a bad dream and she's not the same."

"Is that why you're still awake?"

"Yeah. We got out books."

"Do you want to tell me about your dream?"

He shakes his head, "Dad was chased by bad men. Me, too."

Loki rests his hand on Violetta's shoulder as she comforts her son, "I don't think you're ever going to have to worry about that again."

"But what if they got him?"

"They didn't."

"Do you _know_?"

"Yes. I do."

"How?"

She takes a deep breath, "Because I'd like you to meet him. Kit, this man is your father. His name is Loki. He's come home. And he's staying."

Loki smiles at the little face studying him, "Hello."

"Hi. It's gonna be weird to have a dad."

"It will be an adjustment for me to have a son to raise, too. But I think we can help one another out, don't you?"

"Maybe." He hugs Violetta a little more tightly, "But I might not like it at first."

"Understood. I know my brother wasn't fond of me when he was quite young and I was first brought home- I was adopted. He thought I was going to replace him and our mother, especially, wouldn't have time for him. He was wrong, of course- love doesn't work that way. But it did take him time to get used to me."

"Where's he? Does he love you now?"

"Yes he does. Very much. But he lives so very far away that we don't see each other often. And my poor choices made it even harder."

"Did you say you're sorry?"

"I did. And I got to see him before I came here. He knows where I will be and I hope he will come visit us some day. I think he would love to meet you. He has always liked to play with children."

"I never had an uncle. Or a dad."

"I know. Shall we read a few books and let your mother get settled in?"

"Mom has snacks when she gets home."

"Well, then, I suppose that means it's even more important for her to have a few moments to prepare them. Do you share her snacks?"

"Sometimes. When I'm awake."

"Excellent. Perhaps we can all take a bite together."

Kit giggles, "You talk funny. But I like you." He squirms down from Violetta's arms and skips to the bookshelf.

Loki grins at Violetta, "He's precious."

"And bold. Just like his father."

"And his mother."

"And you'd better get over there for storytime before he decides to mutiny."

Loki kisses her cheek, "Ah, do we have a little god of mischief on our hands?"

"I've got two of them, apparently," she says, playfully shoving him towards the couch. She goes to the kitchen area.

He sits on the couch; Kit clambers up beside him, "Here, this one."

"'Crazy Hair'- by a Mr Neil Gaiman. Are you trying to tell me something about what you think of my locks?" he gently teases.

Kit tousles his own hair, "Have you seen mine? In the morning, it goes POOF! Just like his. But there's no bears in mine."

"A bear? In hair? Well, that certainly would be crazy hair. Shall we read?"

"YES!" Kit bounces, clapping. They read. After, they have apple slices and cheese for a snack, Loki nibbling only a few bites of apple. He leans on the doorframe while Violetta tucks Kit into bed. As she goes to turn out the light, the boy jumps up and runs to Loki. He crouches down to meet him. The first time those small arms wrap around his neck, Loki feels his heart swell with joy he didn't know it was possible to feel.

"Night, Dad."

"Goodnight, my precious child."

Kit bounces back to his bed and cuddles under the blankets, "Bye bye, lights."

She turns them out and they retreat to the other bedroom. She sits on the edge of the bed and he settles next to her, tears in his eyes from hearing his son call him Dad.

"I left my satchel in the other room." He wipes his eyes.

"Don't worry about that right now." She puts her arm around his shoulders, "Right now, just rest. Enjoy your family. And show me you without the illusion."

"I would rather not."

"Please. I can't help take care of you this way. And I can feel your bones through your clothes. I know it's bad. Just...please. Trust me."

He nods and the illusion glimmers away. His face is gaunt, haunted, his eyes and cheeks sunken. His hands are skeletal and she can clearly see the tendons in his throat. She brushes his cheek and gently kisses his jaw.

"I'm sorry. It's...been rough."

"We'll go slow. But we're going to take the time to get you healthy. And you're going to let me see you at least when it's just us alone at night."

"Don't ask me to show Kit this. It would frighten him."

"OK."

He sighs and she takes his hand, "Thank you, Violetta."

"You're welcome, Loki."

She helps him out of his suit jacket and he stops her before she tosses it on a chair; he pulls the key out of the watch pocket, "I need to return this to you."

"Keep it. You'll probably need it."

He sets it on the granite top bedside table, "I told Thor it was the symbolic key to my heart."

"You're a hopeless romantic, darling. Just like me."

"You won't mind if I shower you in little gestures? Flowers you discover at your desk? Chocolate in coffee in the morning? Time to braid your hair or weave it in the complex manner Aesir women wear? Kisses on the balcony in the early morning before Kit rises?"

She smiles, "That sounds like heaven."

"We've only known one another five days. I had to check."

"Five days spread out over eight years. Don't forget that detail."

"Very true. And on this, we base a life. I'm certain there are many in your world, as in mine, who say such a thing is impossible."

"Yeah, pretty much. Gloria's one of them."

"Would you bring me my satchel? I would like to show you something." She retrieves it and hands it to him. He pulls out the two books from his collection and sets them beside the key, "I have a few other books I would like to bring. Would you mind adding shelves?"

"I'll line that opposite wall with them, if you want. Floor to ceiling. Bring whatever books you'd like."

"You are a saint, woman." She laughs. He sets out his clothes. She moves hers over and hangs his pants and trousers on the clothing bar. His Midgardian clothes from four years before are in bad enough shape she's not sure she can repair them. But his scarves, suit jackets, trousers, ties, and shirts, few of each he has, hang beside his garments brought from Asgard on her rack.

"There. That's a good place for them. What do you think?"

"Perfect." He brings the package from Thor out and sets it on the bed, "And I would like you sitting beside me when I open this." She does and she watches him carefully unwrap the silk cord and pull back the fabric protecting the contents. There are two bundles within. One is rectangular and folded in cotton. The other is rolled in a soft velvet. He slips the cotton off the rectangle and hands her his Stark phone. "Thor saved it for me. I don't know that it would still work."

"We can always charge it and find out. It's not like he could use it in Asgard. I doubt cell signal works that far away."

He takes a moment before unrolling the velvet, "I know what is in here. Well, at least the sort of thing. Not very much in specificity." She rests a hand on his back and he carefully rolls it open. On the deep midnight velvet, it glitters. Jewellery. Precious stones set in necklaces, rings, earrings, combs, a small tiara. Gold bracelets and cuffs. And one flexible gold moon shaped collar that Loki raises to his own chest. "Before I had my own armour, this was a part of my court dress. It would have fit me when I was about Kit's size until...oh, I was an older boy. When I was old enough to carry a battle standard into war. Then I would have had it integrated into my leather armour as a part of the breastplate."

"It's beautiful."

"Would you allow me to gift it to him? Even if only when he is older?"

"Of course. He's your son, too."

Loki smiles and gestures to the glittering gems, "These were my mother's. Thor has kept most of her treasures for his future queen. But this is my inheritance. I expected him to strip it from me, but he had it set aside when I returned." He pauses, "This means it is mine to hand to my lover or wife and I would be greatly honoured if you would accept this gift. She meant a great deal to me. And so do you."

"You hardly know me..."

"And yet I love you."

She nods and brushes her fingers over the stones, "Yes. I accept. I don't know where I'll wear something so fine, but yes.

Her touch lingers over one of the rings and he picks it up, "You favour this one?"

"It's stunning."

"Thor once told me there is a tradition in Midgard of gifting a woman a ring when one asks her to be the queen of his household. It is often presented on bended knee." He gingerly slides down off the bed and presents her the ring, "Will you be mine?"

She gives him her hand and he slips it on her finger, "Yes. I will."

"It's a little loose. We will have to find a goldsmith to size it so it is not lost."

"I know someone we can trust. It's beautiful. Is that a star sapphire?"

"Yes. And emeralds."

She pats the bed, "Come back up." He does. "We have a lot to learn about each other. But we're going to make this work. For us. For Kit. Even when it's hard."

Loki wraps up the jewellery and sets it in the bedside table drawer, "I agree. And you will have to teach me how courtship and marriage work in this realm, if you desire to wed."

"I do. Even if the institution doesn't mean much to me...well, the formality is important for children. And for taking care of one another."

"Perhaps we can find books..."

"First, you need to sleep."

"I haven't any clothes to sleep in."

"You know what I do for work. Nudity doesn't bother me. Sleep naked. I do sometimes. It's nothing my kid hasn't seen."

"Oh. I though it was taboo in your culture."

"Culture-smulture. I don't care about that. We're born naked, we can handle it in our adult years." She grins, "Beside, it sure makes some things easier..."

"I'm not feeling up to that tonight, Violetta."

"I know. I don't expect it. Ever, actually. Expect. It's a gift, not something I have any right to. Sex is nice, but it's got to be a mutual thing. Let's just focus on getting you healthy right now. And if it happens, it happens. No pressure." She turns down the bed and helps him undress. She can see far too many bones through his skin. She has him lay on his stomach and she gently massages his shoulders, easing tension from his body until he is snoring.

She whispers to him, knowing he cannot hear, "Remember the question you asked? If I'd found what I was looking for? I said maybe. I thought so. I didn't know. I did. It was you. And now there's one more question answered." She smiles and lays down beside him, drifting off to sleep cuddled against the warmth of his body. There will be time for adventures later. This, though, is time for healing.

 


End file.
